The Escape 3

The escape had been planned for months and just waited the right set of circumstances to put into operation. I was approaching the mid point of my sentence and was not eager to escape having convinced myself that the second set of years would pass faster than the first. Trouble was I was involved whether I wished it or not, so rather than being associated with a botched attempt, I formulated a plan to give the best chance of success.

There were three of us in the cell and killers all. Aldo was forty, over six foot four and at least twice my body weight. He had killed four times. The first happened years ago when he was in still his twenties. Working as a docker he had beaten another man to death but when medical evidence at the trial showed to victim to have had an unusually thin skull, the charge was dropped to manslaughter and he only served two years. This was sufficient to turn him to a life of crime spent mainly as a strong-arm bully boy. For some reason, armed with a pump action shotgun he decided to rob a bank on his own and for a time the robbery went amazingly well. Hitting the bank just after nine o'clock he found only two customers inside and these he forced to lie on the floor. He then had all the cashiers come up and deposit the contents of their drawers into a black bin bag that he had taken with him. A measure of his early luck was the fact that three new customers entered the bank while the robbery was in progress but, instead of running back outside to raise the alarm, they simply lay down on the floor with the others without having been ordered to do so.

At this point, there was a good haul for very little effort but both greed and stupidity now entered the equation. Unaware that anything was wrong, the manager emerged from his office carrying a bunch of keys and this inspired Aldo to order him to open the main safe. While the harassed official hastened to comply, one of the cashiers got brave and started sneaking his hand towards the alarm button. When he spotted this, instead of just repeating his threat, Aldo blasted the man, triggering the alarm anyway when a random pellet struck the button. Panicked by the shot the manager turned and ran only to be rewarded with a barrel of shot in his back from close range. With no option other than flight, Aldo ran outside scattering bank notes behind him and then, seeing police round his car, he tried to run across a busy road. One driver, slamming on the brakes, brought his vehicle to a half less than a foot away but paid for these fast reactions with his life. Without thoughts of gratitude, Aldo ran to the side of the car, fired a shot through the window, then dragged the body clear before driving away himself. All three deaths were so pointless because the fugitive was apprehended before he had travelled ten miles. He was serving life with a minimum tariff of twenty-five years.

Rick was a 30 year old psychopath, claimed a body count of six females and was the worst kind of serial sex killer. In height, at 5' 10, he was a couple of inches taller than me but slim and lithe. He was also very quick. A very ugly man, he had an unmistakable resemblance to a rodent and was universally known as 'rat face' - but always behind his back. You see he had a chiv or knife, painstaking created in the workshops from a piece of bed iron, thin and ending in a vicious point and with both sides of the blade honed to razor sharpness. It had a rudimentary handle of masking tape and twine. He wore it in a sheath of flesh coloured tape bound round his leg with the outside cunningly covered with body hairs. It was so well done that he could stand all but the most rigorous type of body search without fear that it might be discovered.

He had been convicted of two murders and two others were known to be his work but without the necessary proof. He bragged about killing two more, in fact he bragged about everything that he had done. For years I had to listen to the humiliations that he had inflicted on his victims and many nights lay in my bunk sickened to the stomach. Some say that criminality is in the genes - well if that gene could be identified, I think that men like him should be drowned at birth. He held the first girl captive in a derelict house for 48 hours and the hid her body under the floorboards where she probably remains still. The other crime not tied to him occurred in France. Coming across a couple in a lover's lane, he took the girl away at knife point leaving her companion tied up. Returning later, he told the boyfriend what a good fuck she had been - then slit his throat as well for good measure. Rick was serving life with no possibility of parole.

Now to me - yes I am a killer too but I take no pride in it and, quite apart from the prison sentence, I would give anything for it not to have happened. I am thirty-five now and when it happened I was working in insurance. I had been married for seven years to a very attractive wife and we had a beautiful four year old daughter who was the light of my life. For the first three years of the marriage things were perfect but after Alice was born things changed, although Jane loved her every bit as much as I. Research led me to believe that my wife started suffering from a rare post-natal effect of which the nearest equivalent in layman's terms is 'nymphomania'. In short, she started going with other men - lots of men. Night after night, she would slip into bed beside me with their stench upon her and their cum oozing out of her onto our sheets. It had started so suddenly that I hoped it would end the same way so I never reproached her and even went out of my way to be extra loving. Gradually, things changed and I realised that instead of just random pick-ups, she was sticking largely to one man. I gathered that he started coming to the house while I was at work because Alice started referring to 'Uncle Ronnie', then one day she climbed onto my lap and asked innocently, 'Why does Mummy always get tired and need to lie down whenever Uncle Ronnie comes?' I investigated, found out who he was and where he lived but apart from that continued to keep a watching brief.

One day I returned from work to find an empty house and a note waiting for me. It read:-

Dear Jed.

I am leaving you. I've fallen in love with another man and I want to make a new life with him. I know that I have treated you badly in the past but Ronnie has helped me overcome the problems that made me behave that way. I am taking Alice to live in Australia with him.

I have taken my clothes and a few things but apart from that I want nothing. The house is yours and I will make no demands on you.

Sorry. Jane.

PS. I will send you photo's of Alice.

It was the word 'Australia' that got to me. To be honest, I was about at the end of my tether with Jane and could have been relieved to see her go but the thought of my little girl at the other side of the world filled me with blind panic. Clutching the note in my hand I went to where I knew he lived and started hammering on the door. I saw my wife peeping out of a side window but no-one came to the door. Then, when further knocking again brought no response, in a rage I kicked the door open and ran in.

A larger man than me emerged from a kitchen to face me across the room and I could see that he had a knife in his hand. Ignoring the weapon I snarled, "Where is she?" and advanced towards him.

"She doesn't want to see you," he said but by then we were close. In retrospect, I realise that he was a soft as me and very frightened but I couldn't see it then. He made a movement with the knife but I grabbed his wrist and we started grappling. In theory, he should have been stronger but rage probably gave me an edge because I managed to get the knife out of his hand and into my own. Having disarmed him, my intention was to step back and continue to insist that I see my wife but, having lost his means of defence, he panicked and threw himself at me. The knife entered his body and by the most atrocious luck, severed an artery.

I called the ambulance and stayed with him trying to stem the bleeding but that did not seem to count for much at my trial. With all the blood and stuff, the only prints remaining on the weapon were mine but the most damning fact was that the knife belonged to me. As a wedding present we had been given six extra sharp kitchen knives and this was one of the set. This was one of the 'things' that Jane had mentioned taking but, filled with hate because I had killed the man she now loved, my wife swore to the contrary.

The prosecution case was simple - filled with jealous rage and armed with a vicious knife, I had gone to the home of my rival with murder in my heart. Sadly for me the jury found no reason to differ from this interpretation of the facts and I was sentenced to life with a minimum ten years to serve. In their wisdom the prison authorities have a policy of banging up killers together so for more than four years I have been confined with the two specimens of humanity detailed above, sometimes for twenty-three

hours a day.

For the escape to work, it was imperative that there should be only one warder on duty in our section of the block. Now since the regulations specifically prohibited this it was an almost impossible condition to fulfil. It did happen but rarely, always random and in response to some passing emergency. This was no use to us because we needed at least some small intimation in advance for preparations and thus far we had always been taken by surprise.

It happened that during the previous fortnight, the prison had been struck by an epidemic of influenza which struck down the inmates in droves but left the screws strangely immune. It was galling to see them strutting about showing scant sympathy for the plight of the cons. Then, as if by magic the situation reversed and almost overnight the staffing fell to a skeleton level. Not only were the usual two man teams reduced to one man throughout the jail but the general minimal manning gave the rest of our plan more prospect of success than we could legitimately have expected. The only fly in the ointment was that it had started snowing like crazy outside but we were unlikely ever to get this kind of opportunity again.

I smeared tomato ketchup purloined from the kitchen across the front of my shirt and lay on the floor moaning. At the same time, Rick started banging on the cell door and shouting "Man down", at the top of his voice. As hoped, the screw ran up, looked through the peep hole and then, provoked by my apparently desperate condition, unlocked the door and came in. At that point, Rick showed him the knife and that gave time for Aldo time to move from his position behind the door and grab the screw from the rear. Now the plan was for him to just subdue the guard so that we could tie him up but I had entertained the doubt all along whether Aldo intended to leave him alive. Whatever the big man's intentions, Ricky settled the matter by sticking his knife into the guards stomach. Now this was sheer stupidity because the plan called me to wear the guard's uniform as the essential element in getting us out.

While they stripped the body, I undressed and then donned the discarded uniform, suffering a feeling of distaste when my fingers touched the red mess on the front which was not certainly not ketchup. The beds had been stripped in readiness, so now my two compatriots picked up blankets and pillows and preceded me down the corridor. I followed with hat pulled low, carrying a pillow myself to conceal the bloodied tunic and jangling keys noisily. I hoped to give the impression that I was simply marching them to a different cell and that's how it worked out because, after negotiating several corridors, we reached the prison garage without hindrance. The final part was simplicity itself. With my uniformed self driving and the other two under the blankets in the back of the prison van, one pip of the horn opened the gates to us and freedom.

Over the months we had endlessly discussed how much petrol would be in the vehicle we took and thus how many miles we could get before it ran out. In the event, that was academic because we found ourselves irretrievably stuck in a snow drift before we had travelled three miles. With the prison behind, a town ahead and only the coast to the right, we took the only route available and struck off on foot into the mountains.

I was better equipped to face the weather for the uniform was far better than their cell denims. I was also glad that I had taken the trouble to claim the dead man's boots because, although slightly on the large side, they were far sturdier than prison issue footwear. All three of us wore a couple of blankets each with one draped over our heads so that, from a distance, we must have looked like trio of monks. There was nil visibility so we could do nought except put down our heads and plod steadily forward. With some foresight, I had made myself a crude magnet and this did ensure that we were travelling in a more or less straight line and not round in circles. It was on this trek that Aldo's bulk and strength proved vital for he took the lead with it far easier for us following in his footsteps. For the earlier hours, although the snow piled up on us and had to be periodically shaken loose, it did not penetrate our clothes unduly but this changed when the weather switch first to sleet and then to rain. Very quickly we were all soaked to the skin.

A lot of the time we were knee deep in snow but in exposed places there was better going. Trouble was, these stretches always ended in deep drifts that we had to flounder through. Gradually we moved higher, not deliberately, rather following the line of least resistance. We came to a long slope and had almost finished traversing it when some sixth sense warned me that something was wrong. Looking up the hill I saw a small tree apparently moving towards me so I shouted out "For Christ's sake run." We scrambled the few yards to the protection of a clump of sturdy old pines then turned to see 100 yards of the hillside that we had just crossed, slide away and disappear with a rumble into the ravine below.

"Phew, that was lucky," Aldo said and then turned to press on.

"Wait," I said. "It was luckier than you think. Anybody tracking us must think that we have gone into the ravine. If they don't find any tracks on this side of the slip it will look certain and they might stop looking for us."

"How the fuck can we walk through snow without leaving tracks, cunt?" Rick sneered.

"Look at the ground under the trees," I pointed out. "By zig-zagging we can get quite a way without stepping in snow. Then we look for a stream, it doesn't matter if we go up or down, as long as we step on stone leaving no trace. Wherever we do have to cross snow we try to hide the tracks somehow. If we can manage to do that for even a mile or two, I reckon we could be home free."

"He's right," Aldo joined in. "Didn't I tell you he was smart. You two grab one of these broken branches each and drag them behind you as you go."

This made our progress a great deal slower but it worked because looking behind us I couldn't easily see where we had been and I reckoned that continuing rain might obliterate the remaining traces.

After twelve hours of steady slog with the last three in total darkness, I was very near to the end of reserves. Spotting an overhanging bank ahead I said, "We've got to stop for a rest or I'm going to drop. That bank over there should give us some shelter from the rain for a bit."

"Soft shit," Rick muttered but he still started moving towards the bank. Aldo acted more reluctant but his steps too had begun to slow during the previous half hour. We dug out our tins and got cigarettes and that by itself was a boost to morale. After about thirty minutes I felt energy returning to my legs but on the other hand cold was gnawing at me and I felt myself stiffening up.

Suddenly Aldo stood up and said," If we push on and don't find a cabin or real shelter we die and if we stay here we die. I say we push on." There was no argument against that so both Rick and I struggled to our feet but had hardly done so when the big man swore and said, "There's a light. The bastards have found us."

Involuntarily he had ducked down so I asked, "What kind of light? Is it coming towards us?"

"It was kind of orange, a little way up the hill. It didn't seem to be moving."

I moved to where he had been standing but lacking his height, I was unable to see over the bank. "Have another look, see what it's doing now," I suggested.

"It's just the same, not even wobbling and I can't see any figures near it."

After some discussion and moving to a position from which we could all see the light and decided that it had got to be the lighted window of a small cabin. "It's no fucking good to us," Rick gave as his opinion. "The only people in a cabin at this time of year are bound to be hunters and the bastards will all have guns. I vote that we give it a wide berth."

"How about I show myself at the door just in the uniform," I suggested. "If the place is crammed with rough looking guys I make some excuse and leave. Otherwise we just play it by ear."

"This is why I trust Jed's thinking more than yours pillock brain," Aldo said agreeing to the plan.

I stood in front of the door with the other two against the wall on either side. I knocked and after a moment the door opened as far as the chain would allow and the startled face of a young woman peered out. "Prison service," I said, holding forward the identity card that I had found in the pocket of the uniform. The picture on it didn't look a bit me but then neither would the real owner be recognisable after twelve hours exposed to rain and snow. "Some prisoners have escaped and I am warning people in the area," I explained.

"You poor man," she said. "You're soaked to the skin. You must come in and get dry; I'll make you something warm to drink." As she spoke, the woman closed the door momentarily, undid the chain then opened it wide. As she did so, we all three rushed in.

The pretty woman staggered back in shock and then for an instant all stood in frozen tableau as we assimilated the inside of the cabin and she attempted to understand what had happened. But the next moment, a male figure seemed to hurtle from somewhere to the side. With a flick of his arm, Aldo brushed the man aside, almost like swatting a fly, sending the woman's husband staggering back to bang his head hard against the wall. He fell awkwardly, and we all heard his leg snap with an audible report.

The wife looked at her fallen spouse then turned, shouting "Lucy," to run to a small child that I had not previously noticed, and clutched her daughter to her. The little girl was aged about four and reminded me very much of Alice. She gazed at me with big round eyes and in that moment I reverted to a human being and not just an escaped con. My two fellow escapees had dropped their sodden blankets and were stamping around shaking themselves like dogs. "Lady, we have got to do something about your husband's leg," I said softly. "It's going to hurt so best try while he is still unconscious. Have you got something to use as a splint and some binding?" She nodded and ran away to a corner. The child left alone continued to stare at me so I tried a small smile but it elicited no response.

The woman returned with some ski sticks and washing line. "If you hold his thigh, I'll pull the leg straight. I do know what I'm doing," I instructed.

She moved as ordered but as I grasped the damaged limb, her gaze flicked over the bloody front of my uniform and then she looked into my eyes. "You're not a prison officer are you?" she said.

"Sorry," I said. "I am just the same as them."