Escape

2nd TICKET

Yuri Boltov left his sleeping wife, five screaming children, a cursing kitchen staff and three worn out maids and set off for town. He strolled easily in the cool morning air past green fields divided by stone walls and tended to by tenant farmers. Yuri was happy today. He counted his blessings. He and his family had escaped the Russian Revolution along with 3 maids, a cook, a butler and half his fortune still intact. Enough cash to live comfortably for three generations. Well, maybe not three but definitely two generations. Hold up, thoughts processing, mentally reviewing accounts, adding, subtracting and bingo! Okay at least enough for the remainder of his life. His spoiled, lazy children would have to work. And if one or more of his maids became pregnant he was doomed. Well, sort of.

Educating his children was the solution. Preparing them for the world of work, preferably banking, finance or some other worthwhile, and financially rewarding business pursuit, was the key to everyone’s happiness. Especially his. Frankly he was tired of sitting in the pubs all day listening to men brag about their children. He kept his mouth shut because he had nothing to say. But today, Yuri was going to change all that. He was going to hire a teacher.

Yuri walked through town wearing a Priest’s collar. Not because he was particularly religious or even Catholic, no. People tended to respect the clergy, asked them questions and actually listened to their answers. Weather they followed their advice was another matter altogether. The spirit was always willing but the flesh was continually weak. Mills was without a Police department so preacher’s were often called upon to break up fights, solve crimes, lecture wayward youth and, on occasion, listen to the sins of cheating spouses. Most preacher’s were wickedly shrewd, terribly conniving and most, like Yuri, were heavy drinkers. One Methodist man caught between two groups of brawling farmers called a boy over, put two pounds in his hands and sent him off. A few minutes later the boy returns with a football. The preacher takes the ball in hand and says, “This is how we’re going to solve the problem. Make teams.” The angry farmers played like madmen but two hours later everybody’s back inside the pub best of friends, all disputes forgotten. That’s how things are handled in Mills. On the other wise a week later the boy confessed to stealing the ball and pocketing the two pounds. Then the boy’s father came in balling that he’d almost beaten his son to death because his son had stolen one pound from the Vicar. He’d meant to return the pound note but was in desperate need of medicine for his goat. Medicine being whiskey and beer. The Vicar put the matter to rest by granting everyone forgiveness and refusing to hear any more tales. In Mills even when your winning your losing somewhere else.

Yuri enters the Cat and Fiddle and is immediately set upon by Catherine Blane. A crude, mean drunk who had not a good word for anyone. She hates preachers, religions; anything to do with God. She’s considered a wicked woman and given a wide berth by even the toughest men.

Catherine saw Yuri and made a beeline right for him. Even before he’s downed his first morning beer she’s in his face.

“Preacher man!” She calls out, “save my daughter.”

Yuri looks up confused. “Save who?”

“They’re killing my daughter at midnight, hanging her for witchcraft.” Catherine’s crying and looking around for a beer. “I’m so thirsty. Where can a good woman find a drink?”

Yuri sips his beer. “Is that still a thing? This is the fifties, the modern age is upon us.”

“Your in Mills now.” She says grabbing someone’s abandoned half pint. “Here, look at this.” Catherine pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket and push’s it into his chest. He grabs it while pushing Catherine’s hand away at the same time. First thing he notices is the beautiful handwriting, ‘To Mother from Katie’

“Hmmmmm” Yuri says, holding the paper up to the light. “This is wonderful penmanship. Is this her writing?”

“Yes.” Said Catherine. “We’re Calligrapher's by trade. I shakes too much now.”

“I see that.” Yuri said, unfolding the piece of paper and looking at the message.

After they’ve hung me until I am dead and my bones housed in a shallow grave up round the hanging tree, I will not walk toward the light. I’ll not be allowed even one step in a heavenly direction. Instead, I will glimpse those righteous souls, my mother, sisters reaching out to help me up and I will cry, gag on my own tears, gnash teeth and experience that exquisite regret that will carry with me through the eternities. I know my lot, I'm aware the consequences of my choices. Before birth I was a righteous soul; lived with angels but made promises I never kept once born and traveled roads I never should have traveled. Now only one option remains: I'll Roam your streets, scare the hell out of your children and make you wish you’d never been born.

I’ll tear this prison down and bury the irredeemable bastards who built it in their own bloody steel and concrete.

Katie Blane 10/6/1935 – 11/8/1950

“Am I reading this correctly? Am I to believe this child is only fifteen years old?” Yuri asked in astonishment.

Then a voice from the end of the bar. “She’s a witch, mate. Admitted as much in the letter.”

“Fifteen!” Yuri shouted. “Fifteen. Full. Stop. Ex-Clay-Ma-Shun-Point. Do you know what I would do if The government or anyone else tried to take the life of one of my children?”

“Ahhh, Say, thank you, Jesus?”

The men gathered round him roared in laughter.

“Very funny.” Yuri shouted above the noise. “But as it happens one of my children was kidnapped once. In Russia

“What happened?” Asked several interested parties; gathered.

“The child wasn’t gone but an hour and had put up such a fuss that even before this bad man child thief could compose a proper ransom note he released the boy with a letter pinned to his coat.” Yuri had to stop, take a breath.

“What’d the note say, Yuri” The group gathered closer.

“It said,” pregnant pause for effect. “It said, Sorry Mister Boltov I mistook one of your children for one of mine. Picked wrong son. Won’t happen again”

Great laughter rang out.

Yuri took a drink and looked again at the letter. The child is a powerful writer, probably well read too. He was willing to bet she would make a wonderful teacher to his growing brood. Yuri stood up, held the paper over his head and shook it. “I am going to save this child. I am going to save this child.”

The crowd roared their approval. The man at the end of the bar left.

“Who is with me?”

Dead silence

“Five pounds for each man to follow me and save child.”

A great roar of approval as hands went out to receive their money. Everybody was in.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Someone go fetch, Phipps, the banker and Lushington my attorney. I am making plans.

He carried a fresh pint over to Catherine who had retired to a corner table where she was staring into an empty glass. Yuri placed the beer in front of her and sat down.

“I have decided to save your daughter.”

Catherine pushed the beer across the table. “That’s one prayer answered.” She said. “I guess I have to start doing my part.”

“And what is your part?” Yuri asked.

“Been over here praying and promising” - She started to cry. - “And, and I don’t know if, if I can do it?” Her voice shook.

“Do what?” Yuri asked.

Catherine leaned across the table, looked around to make sure no one was listening and whispered, “I promised God I’d stop drinking if he’d save my, Kate.”

Yuri rubbed his palms together, leaned across the table, also looked around the room to make sure nobody was listening and said, “oh my, my, Catherine, oh, yes, yes, that’s a noble gesture.”

“I’m desperate.” Said Catherine. “Then you walked in and read Kate’s paper. The minute you said you were going to save her I quickly finished my beer because I knew It might be the last. “Then I thought no, just drunk barroom bluster, hear it all the time. So I relived Mr. Peel of his unfinished brew.”

“A sensible decision, Mrs. Blane.” Yuri turned, noticed Peel peacefully passed out, head on table.

“But then, like a gentleman, you put your money where your mouth is and I knew I was doomed.”

Yuri smiled. “Catherine, if my plan is going to work I need your assistance.”

“Yes, what, anything.”

“Go home, take a good long sleep, sober up, then clean up, you and your house.”

“I can do that, especially the sleep part.”

“It’s important your sober to receive your child.”

“Yes.” Catherine said. “No more drink.” And she rushed out the door.

“Good, good.” Yuri said. He watched her leave and wondered if her daughter was as hilarious, and as hideous, as she was.

The arrival of Pike Phipps and Coy Lushington didn’t go unnoticed. Pike walked in the Cat and Fiddle with three security guards and a suitcase full of money. The regulars broke out in a chorus of, He’s a Jolly Good Fellow. Lushington entered and stood out only on account of his foppish silk hankie and matching tie. Both found their way to the table Yuri occupied and sat down.

“Phipps, once seated, looked around the room. “I hold mortgages on most of these men’s homes. Why aren’t they working?”

“Night shift, factory.” James Catts, the bartender appeared out of thin air standing beside the table. “Gentlemen before you start your meeting may I suggest you retire to my office where there is some quiet, a modicum of privacy and a sturdy door with an industrial lock. I will be happy to serve you there.”

“Thank you, James.” Exclaimed Phipps. “At the rate things are going a locked office sounds the safest bet.”

“I must agree.” Said Coy Lushington. “I have a wife and child I’d like to return home to tonight.”

“Sissy men.” Snapped Yuri. “But I will go along.”

“This way, gentlemen.” Said Catts.

Once safely inside the office the security men Phipps brought with him put the suitcase in a corner and left; back to the bank. One remained to stand guard outside.

“If you don’t mind, James may I have a sherry?”

“Of course, Mr. Phipps. “Anyone else?”

“A whiskey for me.” Said Lushington.

“Do you two always drink during working hours?” Asked Yuri.

“Are these working hours?” Asked Phipps. "I hadn't noticed."

“Only after favorable verdicts.” Said Lushington. His weak rejoiner got no traction. "like not guilty."

"If you have to explain the joke, Lush..." Said Phipps, his raised eyebrows finished the statement.

“Well this girl is not guilty,” said Yuri. “Look at this.” He handed Catherine’s letter to Lushington who took his time reading it.

Lushinton put the letter on the table. “Why would anyone admit to being guilty of a death penalty offense if they didn’t have a death wish?”

“Because She’s only fifteen.” Said Yuri. “Children say stupid things.”

“I would guess she’s much older from the sound of this letter.” Said Lushington.

“Let me see that.” Phipps plucked Kate’s letter off the table and held it close to his face. “Oh yes, yes, I see what you mean, Lush. Yes, yes, this is serious, serious stuff this is. That threat at the end there is enough to seal her fate.”

“The problem you have Yuri,” said Lushington, “is that threats from a witch are taken much more seriously than threats from, say, a common criminal; a thief even a murderer. Once in London a man convicted of killing his wife promised to cut out the heart of a judge.”

“One of yours no doubt?” Phipps chimed in, half smiling.

“No a colleague of mine. Actually,” Lush chuckled. “If you had known this woman her poor husband would have received a public service award.

Both men laughed.

“What I’m trying to point out, gallows humor aside, is that in certain parts of England witches are treated very harshly. Even by today’s enlightened standards.

“Certain parts like where? Enlightened Mills?” Asked Yuri.

“Yes.” Said Lushington. "Afraid so."

“There is no enlightenment in Mills.” Phipps said.

“Your drinks.” James stood by the table holding a tray. “A sherry and a whiskey, gentlemen.”

Phipps and Lushington took their drinks, settled back in their chairs.

“How do we enlighten, Mills?” Yuri asked the two.

James Catts turned and faced the three men. “If you would allow me, I think I may have an answer to your dilemma.”

“I am receiving suggestion.” Said Yuri.

“They stopped public executions sometime before the war. But death penalties and hanging stayed in fashion, just underground. At least four women I know of personally were hung in 1948 alone.”

“And they couldn’t stop it? Yuri asked.

“They don’t want to stop it.” Said Phipps

“I thought the executions had been stopped but discovered upon my return, from Army service, they were still taking place surreptitiously.”

“What is that word, surrep? I don’t know that word. What does it mean?”

Phipps said, “it means secretly."

“In secret or on the down low,” Lush added.

“They were still hanging them but doing it secretly so no one would find out.” Catts explained.

“I really need teacher.” Yuri said. “Were these convicted by a court of law?”

“Of course not.” Phipps said.

“No one accused of witchcraft ever sees the inside of a courtroom.” Said Lush.

“These were girls who worked for my father while he ran the place. They weren’t whores just young girls who served drinks. Flirted a little maybe but nobody was rolling in the hay if you know what I mean.”

“We get it.” Phipps said.

“One of the wives of one of the men drinking here made a stink. Then she made accusations. Went down the school to file a complaint.”

“Place should be burnt to the ground.” Phipps said.

“Agreed!” Said James.

“Then what happens?” Asked Yuri

“Each girl was taken, one by one, over a week’s time, to the secondary and locked up.”

“Who decides weather they live or die?” Asked Lush.

Phipps said, “solve that closely guarded secret and maybe put an end to this nonsense. Hanging, I mean.”

“We’ll deal with them later. First save Katie.” Said Yuri.

“They do all the hanging up the hill from the school.” Said James.

How far is that?” Yuri asked.

Phipps said, “fifty yards, give or take.”

“How many will be involved in the actual execution?” Lush asked.

Phipps said, “four guards, sometimes five.”

“How do you know all these details?” Yuri asked suspiciously

Phipps said, “people tell you all kinds of things when they want to borrow money.”

James Catt’s walked over, put both hands on the table and leaned in. “Disrupt the hanging and you can steal the girl away.”

“They would be hard pressed to arrest or prosecute you because they themselves are engaged in illegal activity.” Lush pointed out.

James laughed. “Yes who they going to call, the cops?”

“There are no cops in Mills.” Said Phipps. "Or court houses or judges for that matter.”

“Then why not kill them?” Asked Yuri. “Kill these guards.”

“As your legal council I can’t recommend such actions.” Said Lush.

Phipps said, “they probably owe me money."

James Catt’s said, “and they all drink here.”

At 9.00pm sharp Yuri was at the bar, his suitcase containing five pound notes on the floor beside his bar stool. The place was empty. Not one man, so vocal about helping him this morning was here right now. Yuri needed them now. James placed another beer in front of him and went about sweeping up. As he cleaned up he turned out the lights, first in front of the house, then the open and closed signs on the outside. He dimmed the lights in back by the pool tables. By 9.30p the only lights that remained on were those just over the bar itself. Yuri thought seriously about taking his money and going home but then thought of his own children. How could he let something like this happen to a fifteen year old girl? But how could he do this alone? His foot bumped the suitcase, quick thought. Maybe he could buy the hangmen off. Each man would take home a tidy sum. Make the wife happy, buy the children a new toy. At this point, with no help, bribery seemed the only option. He lifted the suitcase onto the bar and, with the key Phipps had provided, opened it.

And found no money inside.

Just newsprint torn into confetti. And a note Phipps had left in an envelope

My friend you’re on a fools errand. To promise money to men who have no intention of helping you, to free a girl, who by her own admission, is guilty of witchcraft, to promise a drunken mother safe return of said witch and to announce these plans mid-morning in a public house is, by my estimation, madness. As your banker I can’t allow your already mismanaged funds to be used in such a reckless manner. Regards Pike Phipps.

Now what? Suddenly Yuri realized how alone he was. This was like revolution when he knew that he had to get his family out of the country. Back then he had enough money to buy safe passage, now he felt broke. What does a broke man do to save his family? Yuri didn’t know, he’d never been poor.

James Catts appeared before him. “All locked up for the night.” He announced.

"James?" Yuri asked. "Why you spell Cat with one T on your sign and two T's in your name?"

James said, "one letter is the difference between being a respected business man and a reckless gin slinger."

"Only one letter?" Asked Yuri.

"Small differences matter, Yuri."

“You think I make small difference, James?” Said Yuri.

James paused for a moment before deciding his reply. “If you save this girl, Yuri, this Katie, you’ll never know peace in this town again. Your family will never know peace. Mills is a wicked town situated in a peaceful, green meadow. Everyone looks harmless but they’re not. Not by a long shot. Everyone in Mills knows what’s happening tonight, they know a fifteen year old girl is going to be put to death and they don’t care. They think the town is a little safer without her. Witchcraft is our Boogey Man.”

“How can they allow such backward custom?”

“It’s beyond me. A wicked history mixed with beliefs no one can let go of?”

“Don’t people want to stop this?”

“Every once in a while there’s talk of doing away with the secret executions. But no one mentions anything out loud. You’re the first one with the guts to do that.”

“Now maybe others will have guts.” Yuri said.

“Believe me, Word’s spread.” Said James. "There are whispers."

“But like you say nobody comes forward.”

There was movement in the back by the pool tables.

“It appears someone’s been listening, Yuri”

Footsteps through darkened rooms slowly enter, one at a time, into the light, until a dozen or more cowboys, desperadoes, cattle rustlers and hold up men are staring at Yuri and James.

“Seems I’ve left the back door open.” Said James. "Oh dear."

“Interesting costumes.” Said Yuri.

“Like a movie, hey Yuri”

“Yes.. Where is Errol Flynn? Are these men dressed up from this morning?”

One steps forward, pulls down the kerchief covering nose and mouth to reveal a tall handsome woman. She steps closer, takes off her hat and blond hair falls to her shoulders. Those standing in back of her her do the same.

“All woman, army?” Exclaims Yuri.

“Would seem so,” said James.

“Who are these?” Asks Yuri, stunned.

Then one from the back steps forward. “We are the daughters of the witches they couldn’t burn!”

At once they rushed the bar, took seats. “Whiskey!” A voice called out.

James opened two bottles of Bushmills and began to pour. When he tried to pour Yuri a drink a hand went over the top of the glass. “Not him. Not tonight.” The woman sitting next to him told James. “Tonight he stays sober.” James moved on.

“Who are all of you, from where?” Yuri wanted to know.

“Parts unknown.” Said the woman with a decidedly Yorkshire accent.

“Yuri laughed. “Your fooling nobody with that voice.” Maybe not me for I am Russian but people here will be able to tell almost exactly what street you live on.”

Another woman pulled up beside him And spoke to him in Italian.

“Where’s she from?” The Yorkshire lass asked him.

“I hear some Italian.” Said Yuri.

Another whispered to him in Spanish and another in French, then Portuguese and finally a beautiful young lady kissed the side of his face and purred a few words in Russian. Yuri went red with embarrassment.

The Yorkshire lass called out, “look the tops of his ears are turning red.” Everyone laughed; it wasn’t the sweet feminine laugh of a dozen women but the deep masculine laugh of a men who’d made a living robbing, stealing and rustling cattle. Laughter like thunder.

The Yorkshire lass tightened her grip around his upper arm. “So let’s be clear, Yuri, we’re not asking questions tonight. We don’t want to know how many times you shagged your maids or even how you stole them away from their parents, poor peasant farmers. Not asking where you hide cash Phipps and your wife don’t know about. And we don’t care that your manservant has his eyes on your oldest daughter.”

“He does?” Yuri asked.

“Yes he does. Not to worry though, He leaves her little notes she isn’t even able to read so she has no idea his intentions.”

“Right, I understand.” Said Yuri. “Children need teacher.”

“Yes they do, Yuri. But not Katie. She’s not yours. Tonight, after she’s rescued, she’ll be taken to France where she will be allowed to grow up in peace.”

“Yes, of course.” Yuri exclaimed. “That is what I want too.”

“The Yorkshire lass laughed. “No it’s not but tonight we’re all willing to suspend belief and pretend you’re more Roy Rogers than Errol Flynn.”

Yuri and the women made it to the hanging tree where they hid themselves in the brush around the huge gnarled oak. At ten minutes to midnight four guards, two in front and two in back, walked Katie up the hill. She was dressed in a white gown. This didn’t represent purity or virginity but reflected the moonlight so the girls from the school could better see their classmate swinging. The execution was designed to be ugly and horrific. They wanted the girl to scream and cry and beg for her life. They wanted her to struggle and fight. The idea was to scare the others. And then, after the child was dead and buried, one would be released to go out and tell others what they had witnessed. It was perpetual terrorism that a secret group of “Pilgrims” had inflicted, for centuries, on the town of Mills.

Not tonight, Yuri thought.

The rope was thrown over a branch. The noose was placed around her neck and cinched up. Katie didn’t fight, she didn’t beg or scream or even cry. Before being led away she had told one girl, a friend, that she was looking forward to returning as a ghost. The guards were making her wishes come true. Yuri unfolded her letter.

I will glimpse those righteous souls, my mother, sisters reaching out to help me up…

How can they reach out to help her up if they are not dead? Yuri wondered. A guard cut the rope around her wrists. This so she would grab at the rope and her throat as air was cut off creating the struggle the girls watching could see. I don’t think she has any intention of dying. Yuri thought.

One of the guards took a shovel and started digging a hole leaving the other three to hoist her up. However they didn’t take into account how hard it was going to be to pull that rope over the old knotted branch. On their first try they hardly got her off the ground. Katie somehow managed to get her fingers between the rope and her neck. Her toes pointed down trying to find solid ground. On second pull she barely moved, guards called the grave digger to come help. And then on third pull, as if by magic, she rose herself, no help from the guards. Stunned, they dropped the rope and she continued rising up until she disappeared into the green leaves of the tree. Gone.

The girls in their cowboy attire rose from their hiding places and took three steps toward the guards who, by this time, were frightened to death. They literally fell over themselves running down the hill.

Two cowgirls who had pulled Katie up into the tree helped steady her on a branch while Yorkshire lass loosened the rope around her neck and gave her a moment to breath. She gulped in the air and then started sobbing, they held her, told her it was okay and that she was free.

Once she was out of the tree the girls told Yuri they would take care of Katie from here. They knew what to do. The Yorkshire lass said, “there’s a method to our madness, you’ll see.”

Ten hours later Yuri was discovered walking through the countryside talking to himself in Russian. His own tenant farmers discovered him and carried him home. He woke in his own bed, next to his wife, not sure where he’d been or what he’d been doing. His own family regarded him with suspicion but eventually realized they were never going discover what happened that night. Maybe one day he would remember.

Three months later he showed up at the Cat and Fiddle. “How are you doing my friend.” Asked James.

“Doing Okay.” Said Yuri. Have much thoughts about Katie.”

“She’s alright, doing nicely from what I hear.”

“You hear what?”

“Want to hear something funny, Yuri? Three of those guards were in here the other night trying to explain how Katie just flew right up into the sky and then a bunch of cowboys walked out of the woods and started firing their guns at them. Those ladies had no guns.”

“Did people believe them?” Yuri wanted to know.

“They were laughed out of the place.”

“Well hard to believe little witch flew into the sky and then cowboy with no guns shot at them.”

“Here you go my friend, This won’t be hard to believe.”

“What? Yuri asked.

James tossed a letter onto the bar. Yuri picked it up, opened it.

Thank you Yuri Boltov. I made it safely to France where I’ve found a home with a very nice family. They know my background and it’s alright by them for me to live here. They had some horrible experiences during the war and barely survived. Survival we have in common and it transcends our differences in faith. Although I am learning a lot.

Yuri I heard about the speech you gave in the pub from my mother and how you took money out of your accounts to try and save me. That was very brave. We’ve never had a proper introduction but I feel very close to you. I have recently learned about patron saints in school. I would like to make you my patron saint. Saint Boltov. Saint Yuri Boltov. Your friend forever Katie Blane.

PS. Mother hasn’t touched a drop since that day.

He folded the letter, put it in his pocket. Yuri Boltov Patron Saint of Small Differences.

TBC

See 3rd Ticket: Dancing with Ghosts

Thanks for reading.