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Just a minute

I'll be there

By R F KPublished 2 months ago Updated about a month ago 5 min read
Just a minute
Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash

Buzz Buzz. It was a beautiful spring morning and Jason was playing his favourite candy mobile game on an old armchair when he recieved a text from his girlfriend Donna. They are coming for you. Leave now.

There was a knock at the door, Jason leapt to his feet. "Who is it?" His voice cracked.

"Police, open up." Said a muffled voice from behind the door.

"Just a minute, I'll be right out." Holding tight onto his phone, Jason, immediately ran upstairs, taking 2-3 steps at a time. Instinctively, he ran into his childhood bedroom and shut the door. He couldn't think straight as his mind felt whiplashed with the sudden flood of adrenaline and blood rushing into his brain.

Back against the wall, he peaked out onto the street, one police car, two officers and no back up. He stooped down and went to look out at the back garden, there was no one there. Buzz Buzz. It was Donna again. Go out the back and I will pick you up. Bring the box. Hurry. Jason looked at his phone, 12% battery. Damit! He cursed himself for playing that stupid candy game all morning.

Frustration seemed to sharpen his thoughts, or the blood had finally arrived back to his head. Get the box. Stooping low again, to not be spotted from the windows, he went back into his childhood room and dove under his bed. It was full of rubbish, 10 years’ worth of socks, water bottles and hidden school report cards. This was the final resting place for many useless treasures. There! He could see a glimpse of the carved elephant that adorned the side of his ornate wooden box. He reached out but his arms were too short. He shimmied his way further in lodging his shoulder under the bed. He reached again, his index finger lightly grazed the side of the box. Holding in his breath in an attempt to make himself thinner, he reached again and this time he managed to grasp the trunk of the elephant. With a mighty pull he unlodged the box, and with a tidal wave of junk he managed to free it from under the bed. Water bottles and old crisp packets flew across the floor. Thunk. He looked around the floor to see what had made that noise, and there it was, amongst his mess on the floor was his brothers lost Scout pocketknife. Jason remembered that he used to hide his brother’s possessions when he was mad at him. He had completely forgotten about the knife.

"Mr Pembridge, open up." The police banged on the door again.

"I've just got out of the shower; I will be down soon" Jason yelled back. That was stupid, they must have heard him run upstairs, but the police remained silent. He pocketed his brother’s knife and grabbed the box. It was too obvious to carry such an ornate box around the street, so he opened his cupboard and grabbed his old school bag. The bag was falling to pieces, he had begged his Mum to buy him this one as everyone else in school had it. It was the latest branded bag. She had said that it was poorly made and wouldn't last, Jason hadn't cared at the time but as he held the tatty bag with the faded brand on the side he cursed his past self once again as one of the straps broke off completely. Still, he didn't have time to find another so unceremoniously, he shoved the box inside.

Grabbing the remaining strap, he slung the bag onto his shoulder and went to the top of the stairs. If he went down the stairs, there might be a chance that they would see him. The window it was. He wasn't a particularly athletic guy, it was his brother that had done all of those extra curriculars that Jason mercilessly teased him for. But it was his only way out.

Opening a window above the garden he dropped the bag first. There was a muffled thump as it hit the grass below. He then, lowed himself slowly and then dropped. He landed on the ground, hard, sending shooting pains through his ankles. Bend you knees when you land, it spreads out the momentum when you fall. His brothers’ words echoed in his head too late as Jason held in a whimper

"Jason, come out now or we will be forced to come in."

This time Jason didn't reply. Pain still running through his ankles like frozen spikes, he picked up the bag and jogged over to the garden fence. Buzz Buzz. Jason ignored his phone and grabbed the top of the fence to pull himself up. Cautiously he peaked his head over first, there was Donna, sitting in her car, she gestured to him to hurry. A wave of relief went through him, he was going to escape.

Lifting himself up onto the top of the fence his jumper got caught on a rusty nail, preventing him from going over the top. He lowed himself back down to free himself, but his jumper only got more tangled. Cursing nails, his jumper, and all fences to hell, he remembered his brother’s knife. He pulled it out of his pocket and started hacking and pulling at the caught fabric. In a couple of seconds, he cut through and fell to the floor. His phone flew out of his pocket. Time was running out, he scrambled over to pick it up and read the message that was flashing on screen. Don't run Jason, not this time. We can still sort this. It was from his brother. From behind Jason could still here the muffled sound of the police banging on the door.

Click. The next thing he knew Jason was back in the house opening the front door. He was now face to face with the two police officers. One of them had a metal baton raised ready to break-down the door and the other had his phone in his hand. They both looked confused but relieved. Lowering the baton, the first officer cleared her throat and said, "Jason Pembridge, you need to come down to the station with us to answer some questions.”

"Yeah." Jason replied, but he was looking at the other officer. "I'm not going to run. Not this time. I’m sorry.” The other officer gave a reassuring nod back at him, "Don't worry Jason, we'll sort this out." Jason took the bag off his back and handed the ornate wooden box to the first officer, and handed the pocketknife to the second saying; "I believe this is yours." The second officer took it and smiled.

Short Storyfamily

About the Creator


I like to write and want to get better.

Always appreciate comments for advice and pointers.

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