Escaping Home

by A. American

  “Where is it?” Mary asked when she came in.

  “I hid it in the kitchen. It would look a little weird for me to be carrying it to work in the morning, wouldn’t it?”

  Jess was already asleep. Fred looked at her and murmured, “I can’t wait to see the look on that bastard’s face when he dies.”

  • • •

  The next morning, they walked silently over to the kitchen. Kay was already there, as usual. When she saw Jess, she walked over.

  “You sure you feel up to this?”

  “Yeah, lying in bed feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help any.”

  Kay smiled. “All right, sweetie, you just stay back here.”

  Jess worked on the normal breakfast preps, getting food ready. She could feel the other women looking at her. They know what happened to me, she thought, trying to ignore their glances and whispers. She wished Fred or Mary was there with her, but they were both on the line so Mary could point him out to Fred. She heard the first group come in, the voices, the trays sliding down the serving line. She listened for one voice in particular, a voice forever burned into her mind.

  Fred and Mary stood beside one another, doling out scoops of reconstituted scrambled eggs and oatmeal. As men passed, Fred would glance at Mary for any indication. It wasn’t until the second shift that Fred caught Mary’s eye. She saw him in line. The toothpick was the giveaway. He was talking to a woman who also wore the uniform of the security staff. When the woman turned around, Fred saw that it was Singer.

  When they made their way to Mary and Fred’s station, Singer said with a sneer, “Well, look who it is! Whined enough to get yourselves a cushy job, huh?” When neither of them replied, she continued, “But then I guess you’re doing what you should be . . . a glorified version of a waitress at Denny’s.”

  Fred scooped the runniest eggs from the back of the pan and poured them onto her tray. Singer looked at the slimy mess with a frown but didn’t say anything. Even for the staff, complaining about the food was taboo. Next, the man stepped up, pulling the toothpick from his mustache. “Hello, darlin’.”

  Fred smiled, but her stomach was churning with anxiety. “Would you like some eggs?”

  “Sure.” He looked at the pan. “Give me some of the firm ones there.”

  Fred scooped the firmest eggs in the pan and gently tapped them out on his tray. He smiled. “Why thank you.”

  Fred smiled back. “Sure thing.”

  He slowly nodded his head, put the pick back in his teeth and winked at her. Fred’s skin was crawling. She felt like a baby zebra being sized up by a lion. She waited until they were seated, then dropped her serving spoon so she could go back to the kitchen for a replacement.

  “He’s out there,” Fred whispered as she passed Jess.

  Jess stopped what she was doing, her heart in her throat. Fred got a new spoon and took it back to the line, sticking it in the eggs. Mary picked up the spoon, using one hand to serve eggs and the other for the oatmeal. Going back into the kitchen, Fred picked up a large pitcher of coffee and took it out to the dining area. She went around the tables topping off cups and smiling at everyone. Making her way to the table with Singer and her friend, she filled a couple of cups before getting to him.

  “Want some more coffee?”

  He leaned back, looking her up and down. “Why, sure thing. We must be special to be getting table service.”

  “Just my way of saying thanks for what you guys do.” She reached for his cup, knocking it on the floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll get you another one.”

  Singer was shaking her head. “See, I told ya, useless.”

  “Calm down, it was an accident,” he said.

  “I’ll be right back with another cup.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to offer me any?” Singer asked.

  Fred was tempted, oh so tempted, to take her cup to the back too, but two people falling dead would look suspicious. She filled Singer’s cup and headed for the kitchen. She grabbed a clean cup and took it into the storage room, where she poured half of the brown liquid into the cup, using a spoon to scrape it out, then poured some sugar on top. Passing by Jess, she jerked her head toward the dining area and went out with the cup and pitcher in hand.

  Jess watched through a crack in the door as Fred poured coffee into the cup. He was smiling and talking to her.

  “I even put a little sugar in it, to make it sweet, like me,” Fred said, handing him the cup.

  “Oh, whatever,” Singer groaned.

  “If it’s half as sweet as you, it’ll rot my teeth.” Fred giggled. He doesn’t know the half of it.

  Jess watched as he put the cup to his lips and took a sip. She didn’t know what to expect. Was he going to grab his throat and foam at the mouth? Or clutch his chest and keel over? What she didn’t expect was what happened. Nothing. He continued to talk to Fred as she went down the table filling cups, finally making her way back to the kitchen.

  Putting the pitcher down, she joined Jess at the door.

  “Nothing’s happening. It isn’t working,” Jess whispered urgently.

  “Give it a minute. It will.”

  With their breakfast done, they watched as he stood, draining the cup in the process. As he walked toward the door he stumbled, falling into Singer, who pushed him off. “Don’t try your shit on me!” she yelled. He grabbed at the frame of the tent for support. For an instant, it seemed like he recovered, shaking his head and saying something. Then his back arched and he fell over.

  “Oh my God,” Jess said in a whisper. “You did it.”

  “Dead as a damn doornail,” Fred whispered back.

  The dining hall became a flurry of commotion, a crush of bodies heading toward him. Fred stepped through the door, watching as they tried to revive him. Then she saw Singer, who was looking right at Fred. She grabbed the arm of another security officer and pointed at her. Fred dipped back into the kitchen, and Jess ran from the door. Crashing through the door, Singer shouted, “What’d you do? What’d you put in that coffee?”

  Fred stood there in shock. “I—I didn’t do anything. I gave you the same coffee. I gave it to everyone out there.”

  Singer moved toward the table, picking up the pitcher. She smelled it then looked at the other guard. “Smell this.”

  He did. “Smells all right to me. She filled my cup and I’m fine.”

  “No, I know this sneaky little bitch did something.” She stepped toward Fred and thrust the pitcher out to her. “Drink it!”

  Fred took the pitcher and started drinking, her mouth curling into a smile as she did, coffee running out the corners of her mouth. Draining the last bit, she set the pitcher on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Satisfied?”

  The man said, “I told you. Quit overreacting, Singer. You’re always looking to cause a ruckus.”

  Singer stepped closer to Fred. “I know you did something, and when I find out what it is, your ass is mine.”

  As Singer took a step back Fred let out a loud burp, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth. Through her fingers she said, “Sorry.”

  The other guard was trying hard to stifle a laugh as a look of pure disgust passed over Singer’s face. She wheeled around and stormed out of the kitchen.

  Jess came out of her hiding place after she left. “I can’t believe it. It worked, it actually worked.” She had tears in her eyes.

  Mary came through the door, her eyes wide. “Guys,” she whispered. “He’s dead.”

  “Shh, don’t talk about this here.”

  As the body was being removed from the dining hall, they cleaned up, going through their normal routine. They were finishing up when Kay came walking over.

  “I don’t suppose you three know anything about this?”

  Mary shook her head, feigning shock. Fred replied, “No
. Why would we? Mary said she heard people say he had a heart attack.”

  Kay slowly shook her head and whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Kay, really? We didn’t do anything. How would we? We were working here all morning, serving the same food to him as everyone else.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Kay said, then left.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Fred said, heading for the door.

  They went back to the room, each in their own thoughts. Once there Jess lay out on her bunk, and Fred climbed up on hers and stretched out as well. Mary paced around the small room.

  “Sit down or something, Mary,” Fred said.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just scared.”

  “Why?”

  “They know we did it.”

  “No, they might think we did, but they don’t know. Besides, you didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m still scared.” She paced some more, then went to her locker. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

  Fred and Jess didn’t speak about what had happened. Fred felt good about herself. Justice was done. It felt good to fight back. She wanted to sleep but was too keyed up to, so she hopped out of bed and picked up a deck of cards, sitting down to play solitaire.

  Fred was almost through all four suits when the door opened. She turned just in time to see Singer and three other people rush into the small space. Singer grabbed Fred by the neck and shoved her face onto the table, as someone else pulled her arms behind her back. Two other people were wrestling with Jess.

  “I told you I’d be back to get your ass,” Singer said in her ear.

  “What the fuck? What are you doing?” Fred shouted.

  Singer looked over as the other two fought with Jess. She was on her back, putting up a hell of a fight.

  “Come on, get her cuffed already!” Singer shouted.

  Jess drove a heel into the groin of one of the two men, forcing a loud groan from him. He collapsed on the floor with his hand between his legs.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, move,” Singer said, grabbing the other man’s shoulder and pulling him out of the way.

  Jess looked up at Singer, a bright red light between them. Then there was a pop, and Jess went rigid as the Taser sent fifty thousand volts coursing into her. The male guard quickly flipped her over and cuffed her hands behind her back.

  Fred tried to stand but was shoved back into her seat. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

  Singer removed the spent cartridge from the weapon, dropping it on the floor. “You think you can kill one of us and get away with it? Look around. Where do you think you are?”

  “We didn’t do anything!” Fred screamed in her face.

  “Oh no?” Singer nodded to one of the guards who stepped out the door. He returned with Mary, who was crying and looked like shit. “Your little friend here already gave your ass up! All you bitches are gonna pay now.”

  Fred looked at Mary. “What?”

  Through her bawling Mary said, “I’m sorry. She grabbed me when I was in the shower. I’m so sorry!”

  “You sick bitch, what’d you do to her?”

  “What’d I do? I’ll show you what I did.” Singer jammed the Taser onto Fred’s neck and pulled the trigger, pushing her to the floor as she convulsed from the electricity. Fred let out a wail of pain.

  “How do you like that? Huh? You like that?”

  Fred lay there moaning as Mary wailed, “I’m sorry, Fred, I’m so sorry.”

  “Get her up!” Singer shouted. Fred was jerked from the floor and dragged out the door past Mary.

  The other two dragged Jess out and piled them into a Hummer. Mary was pushed in on top of them and the truck drove off. They drove to the far side of the camp and stopped. When the doors opened, they were pushed to the ground.

  “Get up!” Singer shouted as she roughly pulled Fred to her feet. They were led through barbed-wire gates and taken into a building the likes of which they hadn’t seen anywhere in the camp. Once inside, they were each placed in a small room where the cuffs were removed, then they were ordered to strip off their clothes. Male officers watched as they undressed and were forced to bend over in front of them and spread their cheeks. After this humiliation they were told to squat down and cough three times. Then the officer ran his fingers through their hair and made them open their mouths and move their tongues around.

  Once the search was over, they were given orange jumpsuits with PRISONER stenciled on the back. Before she could even finish putting it on, Jess was forced out of her room, a black bag quickly pulled over head. Terrified, she listened as chains were drug across the concrete floor. A chain was secured around her waist and her hands cuffed to it. She could feel as a set of leg irons were secured around her ankles. Her heart beat in her ears and she felt nauseous. She could hear Mary crying, and Fred yelling, but she was bound in place, unable to move. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Get off me, fucker!” she heard Fred shout.

  There was the sound of a struggle, and then the sound of a hard blow. Jess heard Fred moan and fall to the ground, then the sound of chains being dragged across the floor. There was a scuffing sound and she assumed they were dragging Fred. Then Mary was brought out, still crying. She offered no resistance and was soon restrained as well.

  “Jess, I’m sorry!” Mary sobbed.

  “Shut up!” a voice shouted. “Prisoners are not allowed to speak!” The only sound was of boots grinding on the concrete and Mary’s pitiful crying.

  Jess was shoved from behind. “Move!” She nearly fell, the shackles only allowing her to take small steps. She was led along and a door opened, and even with the bag over her head, she could tell she was outside. A hand grabbed her by the waist chain and pulled her along. She heard what sounded like a metal door slamming open, and she was shoved, almost losing her balance in the process.

  “What’d this one do?”

  “They say she killed one of our guys.”

  “Is that so?”

  Suddenly, she yelled out as a kick to the back of knees sent her falling to the floor. “Don’t move till the door closes.” It was slammed shut, and she was in total darkness. She lay on the floor and listened as two more doors were opened and the same statement made, then they slammed shut. An all-enveloping silence filled the place.

  Jess sat up, her hands straining at the chains. She leaned down and after several tries managed to get the hood off. It made no difference, though: the room she was in was completely black, giving her a sense of vertigo. She exhaled slowly, listening to the sound of her breathing. Once again, a familiar thought passed through her mind. What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 37

  Ted stepped out of the woods onto the trail and we stopped. Sarge called Mike on the radio and told him to bring the buggies up.

  “What do you think?” Ted asked.

  Sarge unfolded the map and handed it to him. Ted looked it over. “Pretty good drawing.”

  “Yeah, ole boy said he was a surveyor.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?” Sarge asked, annoyed with the tone.

  “It’s just too good. I mean this has distances marked on it, a compass rose up here in the corner.”

  “He said he was a surveyor. If you’re thinking it could be some sort of a setup, then why didn’t they already hit us? Why wait and see if we actually show up?”

  Ted nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. How’d he get out?”

  Sarge relayed the story Omar told of his escape and what happened to the ones captured afterward as Mike and Doc drove up in the buggies.

  “Somebody call a taxi?” Mike shouted.

  “Let’s get out of here. I need to go talk with Sheffield.”

  I climbed in the buggy with Doc, looking back at Taylor. “Well,
how was it?”

  “Boring. Also, I had to pee behind a tree in the woods, and I never want to do that again.”

  I laughed as Doc started to drive off. We were turning around when a rip of automatic weapon fire sounded off to our north. While it wasn’t on top of us, it was too close for comfort. Mike stopped abruptly and Doc slammed on the brakes to keep from crashing into him.

  Sarge came over the radio. “Sounds like our friends are in some trouble.”

  The volume of fire intensified. I keyed my mic. “Should we go help them?”

  “Let’s go check it out,” Sarge replied.

  We slowly made our way toward the sound of the shooting. From the direction it was coming from, they must be on Highway 40. As we crawled up a small hill, Sarge’s buggy stopped and the mast started to rise.

  “What’s that?” Taylor asked, pointing to the top of the mast.

  “It’s a camera,” I replied.

  “Really? That’s cool. Can we go up and see it?”

  “Just hang on.”

  “I got a view, come on up here and take a look,” Sarge called.

  We all climbed out and went up to Sarge’s side. He had the little console in his lap. On the small screen we could see the Blazer on the north side of the road. The doors were open and muzzle flashes were coming from under it. Sarge panned the camera to the left. Two Humvees sat in the road with gunners in their turrets, laying down a steady stream of fire.

  “They better move; they’re maneuvering on them,” Ted said, pointing to the corner of the screen where uniformed men were cautiously working their way down the shoulder of the road.

  “We need to go help them. Try to draw the fire off ’em,” I said.

  “Naw, we aren’t doing that,” Sarge said.

  “Why the hell not? They came out here to bring you some info. You’re not going to try and save their asses?”

  “We gotta pick our fights, and this ain’t one.”

  I was getting pissed. “What do you mean it ain’t one? They’re on our side in this shit. We need to support our friends!”