Chapter 32
PRAT
A FEW DAYS PRIOR
Freedom. My God… I gestured the sign of the cross over my chest. We were actually free.
The gurgling in my stomach was making me weak in my knees, but I had to push through this for the guys.
They were counting on me. I just had to get to the van Dash left idling by the back door and wait for them.
Then we would all head to the cabin to regroup.
It was our final checkpoint before hitting the road.
If we got separated, we’d all agreed to meet there.
Plan was to switch out vehicles at random spots along the way, use cash, and stay under the radar. No big moves, no drama.
And for the first time, I felt it in my soul. This could actually work.
I was racing through the halls in Dash’s scrubs when all of a sudden the lights flashed and the sirens began to blare in my ears.
Darn it! Did they catch Dash? The others?
I couldn’t think like that. I had to keep running.
My heart rate picking up the moment the exit sign came into view.
I pushed out the unlocked double doors just like in all our trial runs, and spotted the van right where he’d said it’d be.
That final rush of adrenaline hit my veins and I sprinted forward, only to skid to a stop when our designated getaway car backed up and sped off.
Something was wrong. Why were they leaving without me?
I glanced down at the watch Dash had sneaked into my cell. I was right on time. It didn’t make sense.
“Wait!” I hollered, taking off after the van, my shoes kicking up gravel as I bolted down the prison driveway and out the employee gates. “Stop! Guys! It’s me!”
They weren’t stopping. If anything, they were speeding up and I was falling behind. My chest heaved as I tried to remember the layout of the woods from the prior runs. I knew what I was doing. I’d done it before. I just wasn’t thinking straight.
I told myself they must have been heading for the cabin, and I knew exactly where that was. How to get there in the dark and do it quietly. I thought Rudy was being overcautious when he kept insisting we play it out again. And again. And again. Now, I was glad he did.
So instead of worrying about where the van was going, I focused on making my way to the cabin.
Not stopping until I could see the smoke billowing out of the old chimney.
That was a good sign, right? That meant someone had started a fire.
Someone was in there. It’d had always looked abandoned before.
I glanced around. I didn’t see the van, but that didn’t mean they weren’t smart enough to stash it somewhere.
I slid down the little snow-covered hill on the heels of my boots, waiting until I was steady on my feet, and approached the door.
Clearing my throat, lifting my arm, and finally mustering the courage to knock.
A few moments later, the door creaked open and a little old lady about half my height appeared on the other side.
Oh no…
I looked down at her but she didn’t seem inclined to look up at me. Instead, she smiled and started fussing with my scrubs. “Oh, hello!”
“Uh… hi?” I replied, trying out the voice I’d heard Que use on anything that walked over the years. A mix between soft, sweet, and sultry.
“You came to see me?” she asked, her glassy eyes finally drawing up towards my face. But it was clear she couldn’t see me.
Was she blind?
“Daryl? That’s you, right, dear?”
I swallowed, feeling the chill eat my ass and hell’s gates open up behind me from what I was about to do. “Yeah… it’s me.”
The more cookies this old lady shoved into my face, the more my stomach soured with the guilt.
She kept going on and on about how much she’d missed me, how she hadn’t seen any of her other grandbabies since the death of their parents.
This woman had no one. And here I was, pretending to be some long-lost dirtbag grandson, who didn’t have enough time in his day to come out and check on his elderly grandmother.
Guess he and I had that in common. We were both dirtbags now.
Gertrude never stopped knitting, her hands moving of their own accord while she chatted away. Almost as if she could sense me watching her, she smiled. “The devil’s lettuce.”
My head shot up to look at her. “Hm?”
“It’s good for these old hands, helps with the pain.”
“Right,” I replied before mindlessly plopping another cookie into my mouth.
“Oh, you sure can eat, dearie. Just like when you were little. Do you remember? I still make your favorites every Christmas weekend just in case you happen to stop by.”
“Yeah… Gran. I sure do love ?em. And, uh, the others do too. They’ll be here soon, ya know? We all came back to spend the holidays with you.”
Hell. That’s where I was going. The cross swinging around her neck was like a metronome counting my sins, damning me the longer I sat here and fed her lies while she fed me cookies.
I kept glancing out the frosted window, waiting for the rest of the guys to appear. Praying no one got caught up and realizing how ironic that was. No one was listening to my prayers anymore. Not after this.
At least we’d be safe, get a warm meal and maybe some rest. Gertrude was a decent human being.
Hopefully life treated her well when we went on our way in the morning.
I’d be sure to send her a card next Christmas or maybe some flowers or something since I wasn’t sure how much she could see. I’d even sign it off from Daryl.
If I was gonna make myself out to be a liar, I might as well spare an old woman some heartache while I was at it.
The cuckoo clock kept ticking behind me, and I couldn’t help but stare at the picture of Gertrude hanging on the wall. Just her, no family in sight. They’d all abandoned her in some way, and here we were about to do the same thing. Use her for her kindness and ditch her.
Convicts indeed.
Never in my life did I feel more like a monster than in this moment. Not even after I turned myself in for murdering my wife. It was a mortal sin, ya know. The kind that didn’t come with forgiveness. No amount of “Hail Marys” or “Our Fathers” could save this damned soul of mine.
But Margie had been sick. Suffering, and the doctors had refused to give her any sort of relief.
She’d begged me just to let her sleep. Suicide was another mortal sin.
So, I’d had a choice to make, my soul or hers.
The answer was simple. My wife had been a good woman, far better than me.
She deserved to go to heaven. If that made me a villain for giving her the morphine that ended her suffering and took her life, so be it.
I glanced down at my watch, even though I could still hear the clock ticking from the living room. I was starting to get anxious. Maybe the guys couldn’t find the cabin. They hadn’t even been headed in the right direction when they made a left instead of a right after turning out of the gates.
I sighed and wiped my mouth with the napkin Gertrude gave me. “Uh, Gran, I’m gonna go check on the others, make sure they didn’t get lost.”
“Of course, dearie! I’ll have a plate ready for you all when you return.”
As soon as I stepped outside the door, the cold air slapping me in the face, I took a deep breath and made my way back towards the prison.
The storm was picking up, and the chill traveled through my pants and scrub top, while the surgical cap on my head was too porous to protect my bald head from anything.
That was it! They probably got turned around in the blizzard. It was one thing we didn’t discuss in detail. What to do if the roads were blocked.
I followed the tracks until the silhouette of the van appeared in the distance. Parked in plain sight, while the fumes puffed out of the exhaust like these dummies were trying to get caught.
Shaking my head, I jogged out in front of them, waving my arms and calling out, “Guys! It’s okay! The cabin’s just down her—”
My words were cut off as the van pulled back onto the road and headed in my direction. I skidded to a stop and watched as the high beams flashed across my face.
They were driving too fast. Closer and closer, the engine revving, and the uneven terrain causing the rusted shocks to bounce the cab around.
“What the fuck?” I waved my arms again but they weren’t slowing down. “Hey!” I shouted, diving out of the way before they plowed me over. I rolled across the road and landed on my back in a pile of snow. “Guys! Stop! It’s me, Prat!” I called out again.
But they couldn’t hear me and they didn’t stop.
Instead, they were backing up and launching forward.
This time I had no chance to get out of the way, and I screamed as the tires cracked my ribs and mangled my legs.
I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, unable to do anything but stare up at the night sky, the twinkling stars, and the blinding headlights.
They… hit me…
I heard the driver’s side door open and tried to crane my neck to get a better look. But all I could see was a woman. Red hair the color of the fires of hell dangling over me. She tilted her head, sliding a finger down my broken body and across my borrowed scrubs.
“Sorry, Doc. But I will not go back there,” she whispered, her voice sounding both sad and amused.
“Please… don’t…” I choked out.
“Aw, what’s that I hear? You wanna play, huh?” She sighed, tugging on my scrub bottoms and using her cold hands to stroke me hard. I hadn’t let another woman touch me since my wife. And that’s when the truth landed like a punch to my gut…
This was hell. That’s what this was. I’d died and gone to hell.
It was the only way my brain could process what was happening, my body numb to the cold. To the heat between her thighs as she mounted me. To the pain in what was left of my legs. I couldn’t fight her. I couldn’t breathe, the fire in my lungs drowning me as sure as the flames in the pits of hell.
I’m sorry, guys.
“Shhh. Go to sleep, Doc. Everything will be okay.”
I’m sorry, Margie.
With a stuttering breath, I closed my eyes. And my last thought was that, in the end, there was no freedom for me.
I’d died a prisoner.