by KW Finch
Then I heard a noise. It sounded like a wild animal coming from back up the tunnel. I stopped sawing to listen. It was the deep guttural sound of an enraged animal, Woolfe.
“London.” It was calling.
I turned back to the bar and began sawing franticly, it was almost through but the saw was pretty much useless. I had to get on the other side of this gate before Woolfe got here, it was my only chance.
“London.” It called again.
It was a voice not of this earth. I could hear footsteps echoing down the tunnel, he wasn’t running, his injuries must be slowing him down. I was almost through the bar, just a few more minutes was all I needed to cut through the last little bit of steel. The footsteps stopped and I could hear grunting and swearing. He must be at the bars half way along the tunnel.
I wasn’t going to have enough time to cut through the bar before he got here. I wouldn’t be able to hold him off if it came to a fight. The footsteps started again and Woolfe called for a third time.
“London.” It was a crazy and demented sound.
It was fair to say he was not in the best of moods and he would most definitely be breaking bones, my bones within the next two minutes unless something pretty amazing happened. I was even more frantic with the hacksaw blade, trying to get through the last little bit. Then with a really hard few strokes the blade cut through the last bit of steel, but I wasn’t ready for it. With the last heavy lunge on the saw my right hand kept going after the blade had cleared the bar. The roughly cut sharp metal edge ripped the inside of my wrist.
The pain was instant and intense as the burred metal tore my skin open. I felt sick, the footsteps along the tunnel were getting louder and louder, any second now and he would be here. Warm blood gushed from the gaping wound, I must have caught a vein. My vision blurred and I felt faint. I had to focus, to concentrate. I had to get through the gap in the fence, get away from Woolfe.
But it was too late, he was on me, appearing out of the darkness of the tunnel, erupting into the light. He let out a yell as he leant over to grab me. He picked me up like a rag doll and threw me across the tunnel, straight over the sewer in the middle and I landed on the far side. I crashed awkwardly to the floor on my back.
“You bastard!” He screamed at me “This is my way out, I’ve already warned you off, now I’m gonna make you suffer.”
He actually smiled a bit. I scrambled to my feet, there was no way I could take this brute on, he was just going to crush me. I started backing down the tunnel but he walked towards me. It was quite clear that he wasn’t going anywhere until he had done some damage to me. As a last attempt to talk my way out of this mess I tried a gamble.
“Who’s waiting for you the other side of that gate?” I asked, pointing toward the way to freedom.
“Shut it.” He snarled. “You’re gonna feel some pain.”
“Where’s your getaway car?” I continued.
“I’m gonna shut you up.” He laughed. “You’re talking too much.”
“You can come with me.” I tried “I’ve got a jag waiting, just up the road. There’s a driver sitting in it now, revving the engine and waiting for me.”
With this he stopped walking towards me.
“You’re a liar London.” He snarled, but the intonation told me there was doubt in his voice. At last I thought I might have a chance.
“Half a mile up the road Woolfe, waiting to take me away from this shit hole.” I really hoped there was. “You can come with me, I’ll drop you anywhere you want.”
I could see he was pondering this idea. I seized my opportunity and lunged towards him. I slipped by him before he realized what had happened and dived toward the gap in the bars. He was after me like a shot, as I expected.
“You lying bastard.” He scowled. “You’re really gonna suffer now.” He screamed as he dived after me.
I scrambled about near the hole in the fence and found what I was looking for. Woolfe was on me again. He grabbed at my chest with his left hand and pulled my clothes towards him. Then I let him have it, the steel bar I had just scrambled for on the floor. I brought it up quickly, held tightly in my right hand to make contact with the left side of his face. Blood was still pumping from my ripped wrist and spattered over his face.
He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, he was out cold. I quickly felt for a pulse in his neck, murder was not something I was planning on. There was a thumping pulse and his chest was still moving up and down. I quickly searched through his pockets. In one of his jacket pockets was a couple of long cable ties, and I quickly bound his arms and legs. Then I was scrambling through the hole in the fence, through to freedom.
I squeezed through the tiny gap and started running up the bank towards the road. This was it then I’d made it, I was out. It was tough going getting up the steep bank and I started to get out of breath. My right arm was throbbing now and my leg was still hurting from the day before. I looked down at my arm, the hand was red where it was soaked in blood but I didn’t care. All I could think about was getting up to the road to find the car.
I made it to the top of the embankment and collapsed on the floor at the roadside. In either direction the road was clear, no cars to be seen anywhere. I heaved myself up and started to head along the road. I checked my watch it was midday, the alarms would surely be ringing now, two cons were missing. I had to find the getaway car or I would be back where I started. In fact I would be worse off because I would be shipped out to a higher security prison and an even longer sentence.
I was staggering along the road and there was still no sign of any car, what was going on? Had my message been delivered? Maybe there was another road on this side of the prison and the car was waiting there. I had to consider making my own escape route. I looked around to see if there was any sign of the car in the other direction, just in time to see the fist of Woolfe coming down on me. He’d managed to get out of the cable ties I’d used to bind him.
His aim to the back of my head was clumsy and I just managed to duck out of the way. His swing carried on round with the amount of force he’d used. I took a step back to give myself a bit of space between the two of us and while he was off balance I planted a solid kick straight to the ribs on his right side. He screamed in pain, it was on the same side we had hit on the day of his caning. He crashed to the floor panting for breath and just for good measure I planted a couple of more solid kicks to the same area.
Just then I caught the flash of a red car from the corner of my eye. It was winding down the country lane towards me, but was it my escape car or did Woolfe have someone meeting him? I grabbed him by the leg, it was limp and he was still struggling with the pain. I dragged him down the embankment out of site of the road and laid on the floor a few feet away from him and watched the approaching car.
It was winding its way towards me at speed but it was difficult to tell what car it was. It kept disappearing in and out of the bushes and trees as it wound its way along the lane. Then it was clear of them and I could see it was a red jaguar, the Growlers. I was so pleased and relieved at the same time. I jumped out into the road.
The Growler stamped on the brakes and skidded to a halt. I could hear Woolfe getting up behind me and I turned around to see him standing there. Growler got out of the car and rested his arm on the top of the door, a fat cigar in the corner of his mouth. He raised a gloved hand to remove the cigar and shouted out to me.
“Everything ok Jackson?”
“Yeah peachy.” I answered. “I’ve picked up some unwanted baggage on the way.”
Without answering he put the cigar back in his mouth and leaned inside the car to get something. He got what he was looking for and started to walk towards the two of us. Growler had something in his hand but it was hard to tell what it was. The breeze blowing towards him was blowing his unbuttoned camel hair coat to his sides.
It was only when he was pretty much in front of us I could see it was a baseball bat. He grabbed me by the arm with
one hand, which I was pretty pleased about because I was ready to fall. He looked Woolfe up and down and then without warning gave an almighty swing of the bat in his left hand. It was a quick and accurate blow to his ribs followed by another swing of the bat at lightning speed, striking straight between the legs. Woolfe buckled and fell to the floor, screaming in pain.
Growler looked at me and smiled, the cigar still firmly planted in the corner of his mouth.
“Excess baggage sorted.” He grinned, puffing out a plume of cigar smoke.
“Purdy’s in the boot Jackson if you want to finish the job properly?”
The Growler was going to let me use his favourite shotgun, this was an honour.
“No.” I said, thinking about the bank manager again.
“Birds softened you up Jackson, looks like I’ve got to you just in time.” He laughed.
“Now, we need to get you out of here sharpish, you’re not out of trouble yet.” He continued.
“I’ve got every confidence in you Growler.” I told him as he helped me walk back towards the jag.
He opened a back door and I collapsed across the seat, the soft leather smell filled my nostrils. He slammed the door before jumping in the driver’s seat and gunning the engine.
“Hold on tight Jackson.” He advised.
“Don’t spare the horses Growler.” I replied. “Just get me away from this shithole.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He laughed as he hit the accelerator. The engine roared into life and we sped off along the country lane. I knew the Growler would get me out, I knew I could rely on him.
The End…