The Prison Break Dream

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I was in prison. Don’t ask me why, but I was. Two people I knew had guard patrol jobs, and would talk with me frequently between the bars. We’ll call them Carl and Craig for now. They both loved their jobs, but they both knew I was innocent too. They began to let me out of my cell and into the fresh air to talk with them. And like a good little prisoner, I went back into my cage whenever they told me to.
It was nice.
Until one day there was a high security alert, and more guards were posted on the outside of the cells. Around 6pm, the usual time I’d go out to stretch my legs, I opened my cell myself and walked out. Instantly, I had about three or four guards yelling, “don’t move or we’ll shoot!” They did shoot, and either their guns were empty or my stomach absorbed the bullets without any pain, because I felt nothing except air.
Carl and Craig were being questioned as to why I could let myself out, and I figured I wasn’t welcome here at the moment, so I punched in the four digit code on my cell and locked myself back in. Craig was fired.
I felt so bad. This was his dream job, and he’d come all the way over from Africa specifically for it. Now he had to pack up his holdall and get on the next flight back. He wouldn’t even look at me.
That night, I felt so guilty I ran away. I’d had enough of prison life. And it was a good thing too, because it wasn’t only the police who were after me. A secret organisation in black and red uniforms broke into the police station that night. And when they found I’d vanished, both police and organisation members alike began fighting each other and searching for me.
I found myself hiding in an abandoned building in the woods with a balcony overlooking a swimming pool. An awesome black guy with dreadlocks and a damn good trigger finger was already there. He put a finger to his lips and I joined him on a bench on the balcony. It was so dark, we were sheltered from anyone looking for us. Quickly, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was still dark; either I hadn’t slept as long as I thought, or I’d slept through an entire day. I crawled to the edge of the balcony and looked over.
The garden was crawling with the red and black people. Every time a police officer even came close to the bordering fences, they were shot down. A couple of times they nearly saw my head sticking up from the balcony, and each time I sank further down on the floor.
At one point I lost my grip on my camera bag, and my camera fell all the way from the second floor to the ground. As it did so, gunfire broke out in all directions. Amidst the confusion, the black guy managed to shoot down a couple of the organisation members.
If my camera hadn’t broken from the drop, it sure as hell was broken now.
Eventually, an absolutely gigantic woman advanced on me, green liquid in a hypodermic needle. She was wearing a black and red vest; maybe they didn’t have any with big enough sleeves. She was muttering all kinds of curses at me, and all the things she’d do to me. My rooftop companion was nowhere to be seen.
She practically straddled me, and tried to inject me. I held her arms away from me, tried to turn it on her. She pushed the top, and the liquid flooded out of the needle and over my face and clothes. I tried not to open my mouth as I had no idea what the chemical was. She was laughing, so I drove the needle into her arm. I don’t think she even felt it.
And that’s when Carl came to my rescue. He pushed the woman off of me and over the edge of the balcony. We heard the sploosh as she landed in the pool. I wiped the green stuff off of my face. No harm seemed to have been done.
…Except after all that commotion, twenty people now surrounded us, guns aimed directly at our heads and hearts, and with nowhere to run.
We were in big trouble.

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