In that claustrophobic bedroom, I was making a plan to escape. The day nurse fussed with my sheets and the night nurse filed her nails in the dark. It was easy, all I had to do was sneak out when the night nurse left for her break, at three thirty in the morning. There would be enough time to grab my clothing, and find my way down the circular stair case and then out the front door.
I got stuck putting on my shirt, then I couldn’t find my shoes in the dark. I left without them. In the dim entrance hall, I heard a clang from the kitchen and reached for the door knob. My mind spun backwards. I was in a dry trench near the Subbard Mountain range. We were being attacked, fired on by the Jurno rebels. In those flashes, of fire and falling debris, our guys hunkered down, enduring the deafening sound of counter fire with our hearts in our throats. Samidee, was beside me, trembling and chanting the psalms under his breath, his back was splattered with Private Geeno’s brains . In a steady voice, Captain Mort was calling in for support. I’ve never heard him complain or laugh out about anything, but when the war was over all he wanted to do was sit in his dark apartment and cry. It’s the tough guys that crumble in silence.
The confusion lifted. I felt the cold marble floor under my feet. The convulsion of the war was still heavy in my chest. Then I realized, that I had triggered the house alarm and heard the safety lock, of a hand gun, click behind me. I was supposed to be smart. I was the best at hide-in-seek when I was a kid—they could never find me. My nickname in our troop was “shadow man”.
“What’s the pass word!”
“Monkey go home…” I replied.
“Wrong. Hands up turn around.”
The hall lights turned on, there were five solid guys in tight suits facing me with Baretta’s and semi automatics. In the distance I saw the night nurse, with a cookie at her painted lips.
“Don’t shoot him!” Astral cried out from the top of the stairs.
I was holding back the urge to fight. It would have been easy: a fake out to the left, to level the blond, a high kick and spin, to off balance the smirking guy, and then grab the leader, break his nose with my head and shove him into the next three. Reasoning it out was a waste of time, the door was locked and the front windows were bared, the nurse would be a noisy hostage. Astral was the key. There was a saying back home– death is only a choice when your visions fail.
Copyright 2015 Digestible Ink
without the authors permission.