I stood outside the courthouse, the past five hours departed my life slowly and torturously. Afterward, I found myself staring up at lady justice. I looked carefully at the scales, the sword, and the ironic blindfold around her eyes. This may have meant something in the past but to me presently it was grade A+ bullshit. Yes, this was all pure putrid bull’s shit. I felt my temper rising then I realized that I was starting to obsess over the situation.
I departed the courthouse with a sense of loss and an expanded level of understanding that the world was no longer for me it was against me. Things had been looking up lately before this whole fiasco I placed myself in. Damnit though if I had known who that old woman was, I wasn’t certain if I would have done anything differently. I wish I could have gotten in contact with that cop who save my ass but apparently, she had been ‘reassigned’. I was told to leave it be and my lawyer told me that my meeting with her or even speaking to her would complicate the case.
‘Well, whatever.’ I thought to myself at the time but I was wishing I had insisted.
During the drive home I took time to examine in my head all the facts. It was not encouraging to say the least.
First fact: I had wiped out my savings of twenty years which were supposed to pay for my retirement fund but were instead paid to the hospital and my legal expenses.
Second Fact: I lost my job at the railway company I worked for. It was partially owned by Luca Enterprises as I learned later. I went there after I had been released from the hospital, my boss was waiting for me with two security guards. Before I could utter a word to him, he shoved a pink slip into my hands then he ran away like a coward and then the security guards frog-marched me to my car.
Third fact: My lawyer told me in no uncertain terms that I had not a snowball’s chance in hell to win this case. He used more delicate words when he explained this to me. In short, I had managed to avoid criminal charges thanks mainly to the policewoman’s testimony. However, the case had gone to owing damages to the plaintiffs. My lawyer warned me that if I could not pay the full amount to the parties, I would likely be imprisoned. How much damage are we talking about? Oh, not much, really, it was a ‘generous’ sum of two million, seven hundred thousand dollars.
Yep, I’m going to prison.
Fourth fact: The most powerful Don in the world had my number and every resource imaginable to do me in. Thankfully, I had what would amount to cover, yep, and it was in the form of social media. My whole escapade of ‘saving’ Mrs. De Luca had been caught on multiple smartphone recordings. My face was on every social media website in the world, and now I was a hilarious meme. The less said about that the better because it was humiliating.
Fifth and final fact: I had a black option that no one knew about, except me. It was a plan implemented years ago by my grandfather just before he died. It was disconcerting that my grandfather was that paranoid because it was… extensive and perhaps extreme. This however was my best option to save my life. Who the hell am I kidding? This was my only option! Going to prison was a death sentence and I knew it. My inexplicable death could be along the lines of ‘He slipped in the shower or ‘He fell down the stairs’ or ‘He suffered a weightlifting accident’ just pick and choose the line! There was any number of thugs in prison who would happily arrange my death to get into Mr. DeLuca’s good graces in the hopes of a payout or maybe an arrangement to get out of the slammer early.
I was a target no matter what happened now, running for it was my only option. Thankfully, I had resources and everything set up in advance all thanks to my grandpa, seriously I wondered after my internal musings how my grandfather had that setup. I was certain that I would never have used it until now and I had decided along the way home in my car that I was going to run for it.
This sucked but I had no other options. Runaway and hide… for the rest of my life.
“Damnit!” I said to myself as I drove up the driveway of my little suburban home.
I walked into the empty house, years ago I had imagined that I would have little ones running around in here. I had been married but one thing led to another during the energy and food crisis, and I had come home one day to find her gone along with all her things. Not even a goodbye letter or anything, she was just gone. I looked around the house and I sighed to myself.
After this decision of running and hiding, I would never again be able to be what I wanted to be. Just be a man, with a job, a home, and a family. Now it was just not going to happen. I had to face that, and I did.
Walking upstairs to the room that would have been my child’s room that was now my office. I went to my safe and unlocked it. Retrieving the red box that my grandfather gave to me on his deathbed. I recalled what he said to me.
“Son, this box contains salvation, it will save your life if you need it to be saved for the price of hiding for the rest of your life.” He said to me.
I was dubious at the time but because my grandfather cared for me and practically raised me, I took the box and kept it safe since his death ten years ago. Now I needed my life saved. I was still dubious that this was something my grandfather had cooked up for some nefarious reason. In life, my grandfather was a bit shady in his youth, but I never learned what he did to become so paranoid. Whatever the reason or secret he took it with him to his grave. I placed the box on my desk and sat before it.
I spent a few minutes rethinking my options and recalling the facts. I looked at the box, it was worn and some of the paint was peeling away. I reached out and opened it for the first time in perhaps decades. The tin lid popped off and I saw neatly labeled cards and a printed note that said: ‘Read all the labels carefully before choosing your option.’
The deck of wrapped cards was sixteen in total. I read them each with increasing alarm and wonder. I read ‘In case of nuclear war and ‘in event of major natural disaster’ and one, in particular, shocked me. I read that one aloud:
“Open if my enemies ask for Lysan.” This one was obviously for my grandfather; this box was set up long ago and that one card was meant only for him.
‘Who the hell is Lysan and… enemies? Grandpa, what did you do?’ I thought to myself.
Shrugging my perplexion off, I placed that card to the side. I read through each card until I found the one that I felt best suited my situation. It said: ‘Open if life is in imminent danger.’ Well, that was suited to my circumstances, taking no chances that I may have missed another option I reread each card, and then I confirmed that my first choice was my best option.
I unwrapped the card and I saw that it was like those military cards that you cracked open to see what was inside. I opened the card, to the sound of cracking plastic a slip of yellowed paper fell out onto my desk. I read it.
‘In case of imminent danger to your life follow these instructions.’
I read the instructions which was a code phrase, a phone number to call to receive more information and to start my evacuation process. I was uncertain for a moment, but I shook my head and pulled out my phone. I followed my instincts, do it. I dialed the number and after the third tone a distorted genderless voice answered.
“Code in.” The voice said.
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“00134 Beta, Upsilon.” I said.
“Standby, code accepted. Explain your situation.”
I spent the next hour explaining and then I received instructions that I was told to write down. It was like I was a secret agent receiving a mission briefing to head out to save the country from the clutches of a nefarious super villain. It was surreal to feel like this and after confirming my wishes to go into hiding. The unknown person told me again to memorize the instructions and burn the contents of my red box. Then they ended the call.
‘Click.’
I read the instructions over and over until I had it all locked into my memory, that took a few hours but after that, I had it all down verbatim. I stood in my kitchen, burning the written instructions and all the cards in my red box on my stove. Bits of burnt plastic melted onto the stove and I forlornly watched the contents smoldering.
Out of curiosity, I had opened the other cards but they all had different phone numbers and codes which gave no meaning to their descriptions.
‘How am I going to live on the run? Would it even be a life worth living?’
I am consumed by my own thoughts as I try to understand once again how society could allow such things to happen to normal people. I was just a working man who was trying to build a life for himself and maybe more. If only things had not gone so sideways twenty years back when the whole world tipped into perpetual crisis. I would have had a family by now and maybe even a grandkid. I would maybe have had a better job or maybe even have started my own business.
Those dreams were gone now and soon I would be gone too. Perhaps into another country or onto an island somewhere in the Caribbean Sea or somewhere along the coast of Africa. Who knows where I would be taken and all because I was the good guy who saved the wrong person?
I am going to lose everything I had worked for my entire adult life. My house, car, the little sailing boat, my books, the 40K figurines I had collected and painted. Everything I had was going to be left behind. The instructions were clear, and it made me sick to my stomach. I rushed out of the kitchen, and I barely made it to the toilet. Was that everything my life represented, my things? I retched again as the wailing of my thoughts and raw feelings waged war on my body. I felt something I had not felt in years as I knelt before the toilet, hot burning at the corners of my eyes then welling tears.
‘When did I last cry? When Jackie left me. That was a bad day that really did hit me hard… just like this one.’ A great heaving sob racked my body.
I knelt there and after a few minutes collected my wits and after a space of time, I got to work.
A day later, I walked alone on a deserted street at midnight, making my way to the meeting spot that I had been directed to. I moved swiftly, glancing about me to see if anyone was near. All was clear, I was alone and I moved as quickly as I could while trying to be as silent as possible.
Fear was present in my mind, but I managed to stay focused on the task, I was almost there, nearly. It was cold for a summer night I was wishing I had brought a coat with me.
“Psst…” Said a soft voice.
I froze where I stood and looked around. I saw a man waving at me through a parked car’s open window.
“Frankenstein.” Said the man.
I remembered my response.
“Sage.” I said in a tense whisper.
“Come on then, get in the car, you were almost late.”
Not looking at the man in the driver’s seat. I opened the door to the back seat and clambered in. The man started the electric engine, and we rode off into the night. I glanced at the shadow of the man’s head in front of me.
“Don’t talk to me please, the less I know the better for me and for you, understood?” He said.
“Understood.”
We drove out of town and rode into the industrial sector of town, tense with fear I said nothing as we drove.
We drove up into the speedway and about forty minutes later we were pulling up to an old gas station that had seen better days. Well, you know, back in the day when there was gasoline. Fearful still I looked to the man as he drove toward a garage that had an electric semi-truck inside of it.
“This is your next ride, now get out and forget we ever met.”
I said nothing as I exited the car and when I closed the door the car sped off onto the highway toward town. I investigated the open garage seeing no one present then suddenly a black hand pressed onto my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Frankenstein.” Said a gruff voice.
“Sage.” I said in fright.
“Well then mister you are my passenger, don’t talk to me or look at me, just move as I direct you.” Said the truck driver, who I identified as a deep southerner.
The man who was not a lightweight as the hand grasp my shoulder painfully directed me toward the truck and using a remote had opened a door to the back passenger’s side. I climbed in and the door slammed shut, I saw to my amazement something I was not expecting. A meal… a hot meal resting on a secured tray next to the seat and a warm thermos in the cup holder, I tasted the drink tentatively… it was coffee. Black.
“Oh, thank you, God.” I whispered to myself.
I felt the truck shift subtly and I heard a door slam shut. Then a whine of the electric engine turning. Then a muffled voice and loud thump from the cover in front of me brought me back from my heaven of coffee.
“Buckle up, chow down, and stay awake! We have an awfully long drive ahead of us! The john is in the side compartment and there is more coffee in the pitcher secured next to your seat. There is also a tablet and headphones in the catch in front of you to keep you busy. Now I stress again: You must stay awake, ya hear?”
“Yes… thank you. What is…”
Thump!
“Shut up!”
I shut myself up as I buckled my seatbelt and the truck began moving, I opened the container that held to my delight a steaming hot homemade burrito. I wondered if all black-market travelers had access to these amenities. I chomped down on the best burrito I have ever tasted in my life. The coffee was great too. The drive was long, horribly so, and staying awake was hard but I managed it.
Several days later I had passed through several states to find myself still in the US of A. I was sure I was going to be spirited away into some foreign land but thankfully not. However, the trip took an unpleasant turn when I was dropped off at a moldering rest stop that had been long abandoned. I was alone there for several hours until a kid on an electric four-wheeler rolled up to the front of the dilapidated hotel I sat in.
“Frankenstein!” the kid shouted.
“Sage.” I said wearily in reply as I walked out of the hotel and waited for him to instruct me.
“Well, hop in, it’s a short drive to the depot from here.”
I sat in the electric wheeler the teenage boy had left me. He appears from the depot which is a boxcar. He shoves a large backpack into the driver’s seat that he had stowed at the depot. Resting his hands on the frame looking at me with stark green eyes.
“Alright old one, it’s here that you are on your own, there are seven gallons of water stowed in the back, along with rations, there is a Lock-director tablet in this backpack with a solar charger. Just turn it on and when the little dial starts spinning it means you are getting close to your destination and if they both start spinning it means you’ve arrived, there should be a shelter nearby so search carefully. If the dials do a swaying motion that means you are going the wrong way and need to turn around. If the dials are still that means you are going the right way. Everything that you may need is in the backpack… well… good luck.” Said the redheaded teenager, then he walked back into the depot then rode out on a bicycle, and was gone.
That had been days ago since I had last seen anyone, during that morning I suddenly realized that may have been the last time I would see anyone again. The thought stilled me for a solid hour. I sat on the bumper of the electric four-wheeler, trying to master my emotions and until yet again I realized that there was no one around me. No one to see me lose it, no one to witness a violent reaction, and no one at all to say anything behind my back. I was going into permanent exile, running from the law and the Luca crime syndicate. I was going to be alone probably for the rest of my life.
Instead of screaming in rage, throwing the contents of the backpack all over the desolate hardened baked soil, or punching the hood of the four-wheeler. I curled up, hugging my knees to my chest, and wept like a small child lost in the wilderness. My six-foot-four frame shuttered and heaved with uncontrolled sobbing as all the horrible events that occurred throughout my life fell on me like a ton of bricks. Too many emotional bricks… crushing me.
It was noon when I stopped crying my eyes out. I drank almost half a gallon of water and I felt stupid for wasting so much water crying. I rode off across the wilderness, the Rocky Mountains ahead of me. The dials of the tablet were steadily pointing me toward a new home for an exile.