Out of the Frying Pan

People ran frantically down the street. Tripping over each other, screaming, pushing, and desperately looking over shoulders. They looked at me in confusion as they ran past me, and I stared blankly in the direction they were running from. Other than the glance they each gave me, no one stopped to inquire, in detail, as to why I was just standing in the middle of the street. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to answer that question, even if someone did stop to ask. Why was I in the middle of all this madness? Where was I? How did I get here and what is everyone running from?

My reflexes seemed to kick back in as a large man hurtling down the street lost his footing and flew headfirst in my direction. I dodged to the side and was shoved forward and back again until I had turned in the same direction as all the runners. I looked curiously over my shoulder to figure out what we were running from and quickly realized where the sound of hoofbeats had come from.

Aggrieved because of the crowd, irritated from overstimulation the bull directly behind me growled and snorted in a rage. Several bulls rampaged down the street, flinging people and running into anything in their path. The fences blocked off the street as I frantically looked for a place to run to. I saw the man in front of me slip through an opening in the fence and followed his lead. The bull that was directly behind me slammed hard into the fence where I had slipped through and glared deliberately at me as if to say I’ll get you next time!

Out of breath, I leaned against a wall, panting.

“What is happening?” I blurted. The man who slipped out before me took my rhetorical question as though I had directed it to him.

“Ah! American! We don’t get many American girl for encierro!” He smiled widely at me. “You either very brave or stupid!” He laughed

“What is encierro?” I gasped

“Bull running.” The stranger said with a curious look. Before he could ask me anything else a loud explosion sounded overhead. I jumped and let out a surprised gasp. The stranger smirked at me.

“It over now! ¡Viva San Fermín!” He exclaimed as he began to walk away.

I watched him skip and dance down the street as I pushed my exhausted body off the wall I was leaning on. I began to walk down the brick-laden boulevard. I looked deeply at the gothic churches and medieval architecture. Around the corner, I could hear loud music and laughter, I cautiously peeked around. Down the alley, toward the street, a crowd of people lined the sidewalks. Parading and dancing down the street were giant-headed puppets. Multiple people underneath each puppet worked together to hold it up and wave its hand. Slightly smaller puppets chased children in the streets. I was amused but not enough to stop and revel in the festivities. I needed answers, but I had no clue where to start. Typically, I walked with my head level to the ground, looking straight ahead like I was on a mission, but now I had no idea where I was going. My gaze shot from store to cathedral to small houses.

An elderly woman sat outside a doorway in a rocking chair. “How do you like it so far?” She directed her question toward me as if she knew more than she said. How could she know about this crazy adventure I had been placed in the middle of? “The festival!” She said as though she knew what I was thinking. “Come sit, sit!” She motioned me to the chair next to her.

I walked toward the lady, defeated. As I slumped in the chair next to her she patted my arm. “There, there, young lady, what is troubling you?”

I looked at her gentle smile and found comfort in her kindness, as I relaxed a little in the chair and prepared to tell her my story a large man exited the door behind me. I turned slightly to look at him but only saw the white cloth that he placed over my mouth. I struggled in his grasp but my strength rapidly faded as I heard the old lady laugh. “Your trouble has just begun, young lady.”

I woke to war drums in my head. This feeling was becoming increasingly familiar. I turned to sit up and hit my head on the ceiling above me. I went to reach out to grab my head and hit my hand as well. My eyes opened wider to reveal nothing but darkness. I felt walls in every direction, five inches to my right and five to my left. There was a small window with bars that I could barely see out of, only to gaze into more darkness. I was in a box on unstable ground that swayed back and forth. I panicked. Kicking and screaming to no avail as my limbs encountered the coffin around me. Screaming hysterically for help as I flailed against the solid wood box, bruising my limbs in the process.

“There is no use,” A small female voice said. “I have been trying to get out all day. I thought I was the only one in here.”

“Where is here,” I stuttered.

“I don’t know, they took me from the festival, you sound American too.”

Abruptly a door in front of us swung open, the light was blinding as it pierced through the darkened room and stung my eyes. Two men somersaulted into the doorway on top of each other. Covered in blood and sweat, they lethargically alternated punches. I utilized the light to examine the box. The edges had started coming apart and I could see the nails in between the planks. I turned and positioned myself on my back and pulled my knees in as close as I could and shoved them out together, hard. Over and over, I kicked the side of the box that was already loose. Chaotic fights had multiplied in this room, and no one paid any attention to the prisoner attempting to escape. Exhausted, I gave my feet one last thrust that made the wood crack. The side had pulled away from the nails and I could see the light through the cracked wood now. I was so thrilled I pumped my feet together two more times and the entire side piece broke off.

As I wiggled out of the box, I ducked as a flashlight that was thrown in my direction nearly skimmed my head. Crouching low, I began to look for something to pry the other crate open. A large bowie knife was laying on the floor, covered in blood. I picked it up and ran over to the other crate. Two men in the back of the room knocked each other around. I could hear the sounds of skin on skin and bones cracking and it made me cringe. I looked just in time to see the tall gangly one lose his balance and reach for anything in his path to break his inevitable fall. Regrettably, what he found was a candle. The candle crashed to the floor at the same time as the gangly man, splashing him with candle wax and setting alight a colorful arras decorating the wall. The man screamed from the wax burn but the other men fighting each other did not pause for even a second as the fire roared up in a brilliant blaze. Momentary paralysis overtook me, as I watched the fire devour more of the room.

The intensifying heat beseeched action, forcing me over to the other crate. Shoving the bowie knife in between the planks, I slammed the palm of my hand into the butt of the knife as I’d seen them do in movies to wedge it down deep enough to pry. I pulled my hand back in agony. This was not Hollywood! I needed something to knock the blade further between the planks. Recalling the flashlight, I dove in the direction of where it had fallen. Knocking the blade in as deeply as possible, my fingers tightened around the grip while leaning back with all my weight.

“Kick!” I screamed at the girl. She lifted her legs as I pulled at the other side. Her box gave way more quickly than mine had and I helped her crawl out.

“What in the world,” she said at first sight of the carnage that had broken out in the room.

“No time,” I rushed, “Let’s go, now!”

Snatching her hand, I pulled her towards the doorway where we were both instantaneously bowled over by an enormous giant of a man that was being dominated by a man half his size dressed in flowing black clothing and multiple beaded necklaces. The small man spun, mid-air and kicked him in the chest and then in his face. He fell stiffly, as a large tree in the forest would have, straight back, with no regard for anything in his path. The girl and I looked at each other wide-eyed as he fell right in front of where he had knocked us over. Crawling to our feet in haste we resumed our path, out the door and down the hallway. The stairs had no railing and at the top was a hatchway in place of a door. The fire was spreading quickly down the hall, some had realized the more immediate danger and were attempting to put it out. Frantically we ran upward, praying for the freedom that was only feet away.

Despite the weight of the solid wood hatch door, our adrenaline-saturated bodies pushed it up and open as though it were a silk robe being lifted from the floor. The night sky was enraged, and the ocean waves tossed to-and-fro as though its only purpose was to throw every breathing person aboard over. Smoke from the lower-level billowed black, as the fire gluttonously began to devour the upper deck, despite the rain that tried desperately to subdue the flames.

Fighting the waves, the rain, and the wind remained the ship's lowest priority as it was repeatedly bashed by a menacing black ship that had attached itself and was providing an endless barrage of invading interlopers. The ratchet black mast stood ten feet higher than the ship we were on, brandishing shredded black flag with skull and crossbones violently flapping in the wind. Purple lightning lit up the sky and pulled my attention to the helm, where six men were on their knees in front of a firing squad. Again, a flash of light and sound, followed by the unison thump of limp bodies. We gasped in tandem, drawing attention to ourselves. Standing guard ten feet away, a colossal man unfolded his arms to hunt us. Fire and death burned in his eyes, his bulging muscles glistened from the heat of the fire and the splash of the uneasy sea. Covered in dirt and blood, he charged toward us, convincing me that he was hungry for more carnage.

I tugged hard at her hand and ran in the only direction we were not being blocked by certain death. Heavy clunking of the hulks’ steps behind us encouraged the velocity of our bare feet. Gracefully gliding in sync towards the gunwale, we turned and looked at each other in true Thelma and Louise fashion and leaped over the edge. Our hand's released mid-air. Panic struck my heart as the icy wind exacerbated the fall to the frigid water below. Anxiously gasping to fill my lungs before my supply was cut short proved futile, as I violently slammed into the thundering waves. My body thrust downward against my weight, my lungs already starved for air, I pushed myself in the direction of the lightning, as fading hope whispered in my ear. Survive!