Miracle in Cell 52

I was thrown into prison back in 2014. Jailed for a crime I didn’t commit.

In the last eight years, I hardened my body. Trained my mind by reading any book I could get my hands on. I found I had a fondness for legends set in the time of knights, castles and princesses. Obviously the fantasy helped my mind escape this place. And when I wasn’t drifting away into an Arthurian tale of adventure, I thought of one thing: escape.

Then a miracle happened.

The Angel appeared before me in my cell late one night. My legs buckled, and on my knees my body trembled.

She whispered to me, “Freedom.”

There has always been a little madness in me by nature, and although I questioned my reality… this felt real.

“How?” was the only word I could think to utter back.

She pointed to the wall. Suddenly it was transparent. I reached out and touched the plane where the bricks used to be. My hand passed into empty space. My heart pounded.

Next thing I knew, I was crawling in a tunnel. I gauged from my time in the yard that I was passing under the perimeter fence. Soon I would taste the sweet outside air.

DAY 2:

The Angel didn’t leave me as I scrambled through the woods. She pointed the path, and I followed.

Last night I slept in a cave. Thank god no bears. I knew this Angel had a plan for me, but how far could I go alone?

My thirst for recent clouded my judgment. I kept seeing the day of my capture. At the Mexican border in 2014. Obliviously opening the trunk of my car to find 100 kilos of pure Colombian cocaine. In an instant I was surrounded by police. Sirens and spotlights. Shouting at me to get on the ground.

I had been set up by the cartel. But why? What had I ever done to them?

DAY 3:

I finally make it out of the wilderness, and hitch a ride on the interstate. I ask the driver to turn on the news, but no word of my escape.

I end up at an old girlfriend’s apartment. Someone I know I can trust. She makes me the first decent meal I have had in 3 days.

“What are you going to do?” asks Emma.

“The only thing I can do. Go on the run. Change my name. Only take the odd cash-paying job. Stay smart. Don’t get caught.” I state as though I had been doing this my whole life.

“What if the cartel find you?” she continues to worry aloud.

“Then I’m a dead man.” I reply.

DAY 4:

Last night was nice. Emma and I made love. But the road ahead is going to be tough. I depart for the coast. Only $200 in my pocket, and a small bag over my shoulder.

YEAR 2:

They found me. I don’t know how, but they found me. I see three gang members packing heavy artillery at the front door as I crane my head out of the window. That’s three stories down. They’ll be upstairs in less than a minute.

I grab my .35mm and a small satchel then bolt it for the fire escape. I take the rickety metal staircase to the street.

I make it 20 yards when I hear, “Freeze!” from behind.

Freedom means a lot of things to a lot of people. Freedom of speech. Freedom to peaceful assembly. I took my right to defend myself to the ultimate level, and I didn’t even blink.

It’s my way or the highway.