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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2209197-JANET
Rated: ASR · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #2209197
An unfinished story featuring a few of my OC's

Part One:
Life Before Prison



Characters You Will Meet
Amelia Janet Scott…..the main character
Charles Johnathan Washburn…..the other main character; the boy Janet likes
Catherine Dorian Scott…Janet’s twin sister; the officer who shoots the dart; the guard on the train;
Bruno…...The prison Bully
Atamari Luna Ramierez…..Australian pawn and tavern owner: a former cellmate of Janet’s
Cathy…..A temporary cellmate of Janet’s
Tori…..A temporary cellmate of Janet’s
Tracy Harbing…..…..Prison temporary cellmate of Janet’s

Introduction
         17 years old, and I still can't rob a bank.
         Ok, so you are like, Woah, hold up. Rob a bank? Before we get too far into the story, let me introduce myself. I am Amelia Janet Scott, A.K.A. Black Cat Janet(my criminal name). I am an assassin for hire, and I am the most wanted (and youngest) criminal in America due to my kill rate. I believe it is over 500, but most of those were small jobs from private employers. I thoroughly enjoyed the killing business, but that was getting a little too risky, so I decided to try thievery. Unfortunately, I am not the quietest, so I can't rob a bank (successfully). Ok, enough background details. Back to the story.
         The damp, musty crawl space under the bank was an echo chamber. I hear a metallic "click" sound. Crap. They’ve spotted me. Crawling out of the moldy crawl space, the cool night time refreshes me. The Bank alarm goes off, sending me dashing into the alley, escaping the area. I navigate the maze of alleyways across town to the appointed spot for the getaway car. When I get to the appointed spot, they aren't there. I don't have time for this. Disgusted, I ran across the nearby train tracks. As I near the city limits, the cloak of the forest greets me like an old friend. Entering, the thicket trail is invisible to everyone but me. Jump the log, left path, right right, duck the branch. As I near the end of the path, I emerge into a small enclave. In the center lies my last-ditch plan-a stolen military-grade helicopter. Something about the whole thing feels wrong, though. I unchained the door and climbed in. I reach to start the helicopter, but the key is missing.
         “Looking for this,” a voice behind me asks. I whirl around to find myself face to face with a police officer. He's dangling the keys in front of my face. As I jerked around to get out, officers appear on all sides of the helicopter.
         “It’s no use, Amelia. You can’t run. We have you surrounded.”
I soon realize he is right. An officer steps up and opens my door. A second officer has his gun trained on me. As I get out, the other 50 officers follow suit. Suddenly, I bolt for the trail. Before I go 10 feet, I feel a sharp pain in my neck. A sleeping dart?! At that point, everything goes dizzy, then black.

Chapter 1
         When I come to, I'm strapped to a wall. I let a few minutes pass, my eyes becoming used to the dark. The room I am in seems to be five-foot by seven-foot. Suddenly, the wall opposite to me opens into double doors, and with it comes the blinding LED light of a police parking garage. This brings back the dizziness. Through my swimming vision, I see 4 officers step in and get their guns out. Two of them unlock the metal banding from the wall. I dart my eyes around, looking for a possible means of escape.
         “Don't even think about it, Janet.” one officer says. I soon realize that he is right, that there is no possible escape for me. I meekly obey their commands to get on the ground. Lying down, one officer sits on my back while another places me in heavy-duty handcuffs. I am escorted to the backseat of a police car. From there, I am taken to Burgundy County Jail. Once inside, I am taken to Hall 9, Cell 14. It is a simple room with 3 walls and a floor to ceiling row of bars.Is this all the precautions they are going to take? I can break out of here easily!
         “This is only temporary. After trial, you are most likely going to be taken to Yellowblade National Prison.” one guard said as if reading my mind.

          I am introduced to my new cellmates Cathy, Luna, and Tori. Cathy was in for graffitiing. Although she didn't mention what crimes she committed, Luna admitted she was also waiting for trial. Finally, Tori was caught forging money illegally. After introducing myself, Luna was the only one who was brave enough to talk to me. When I saw that there was a phone on the wall, I went to make a call.
         “Hey, that phone doesn’t work,” Luna said.
         “Why not?”
         “I dunno. I think they cut the landline or disconnected it or something.”
Disappointed, I walk over to my new bunk. If I'm here, might as well be comfortable.
         “Hey, Janet?” Luna asked.
         “Yeah?”
         “Question. How you were arrested? I mean, you’ve eluded the cops for, well, since you started in the world of crime.”
I sighed. Here we go again… “The cops hid in my helicopter.”
         “You have a helicopter??” Cathy pipes up, suddenly interested. She and Tori are playing cards.
         “Well, it’s not exactly mine. I stole it from a military base a couple years back.”
         “Dang! You’re good!” Tori says.
         “Thanks. To be honest, it’s not that hard to steal a helicopter.”
This draws the attention of the Guard in the hall. Realizing that I have the spotlight, I become very uncomfortable Thankfully, Luna comes to my rescue.
         “Hey guys, Janet is tired from the last 24 hours. She has been on the run for- how long, Janet?”
         “Seven months. I haven't showered in like, two weeks.” I reply. “I’m going to sleep. Waking me up is going to be the equivalent of being punched in the face.” Within 5 seconds, I’m out like a light.

Chapter 2
         The next morning is pure torture. We are woken up at six o'clock sharp, and go to breakfast. I don't want to people this early... Fifteen long minutes drag by, and breakfast is over. I sneak a few extra pairs of silverware into my sleeve. Throughout the day, I keep collecting the materials needed to escape.
At the end of the day, I am sick of people and thankful for the privacy of my bunk. But, I have most everything needed to escape. I avoid talking to my cellmates, and they fall finally asleep around midnight. Before I can come up with a plan for escaping, I fall asleep too. A few days goes by, life goes on as usual, and I am all set to escape. I have a knife made from an old candlestick I found under my bed, an old metal nail file I also found under my bed, a rope I stole from the supply closet, handcuff keys I may or may not have pick-pocketed, and a pair of cotton gloves. I plan to escape tomorrow night. Life, however, has other plans for me…

                   The Next Morning…..
         At 4 AM, I am woken up by an officer shaking me.
         “Amelia. Amelia, wake up.”
         “W-Wha?”
         “Amelia, you need to get up.”
         “*yawn* Why? It's too early to be alive.” I say covering my head with the pillow.
         “You have court today.”
This jolted me awake, and I bolt up, hitting my head on the bunk above me. “Wait, What? Where?” My question goes unanswered because 4 officers enter.
         At 5 AM, We are on the road. I am cramped into the back of a 2004 Ford Crown Victoria, all my escape tools poking me inside of my jail suit. Thankfully, the trip is soon over. We arrive 5 minutes early, so I go and ‘use the bathroom’. Inside the stall, I lay out all of the materials that I kept with me. My knife, gloves, the metal nail file, and a civilian outfit I find inside the stall. The rest is inside my mattress back at the jail. As I am zipping my jumpsuit up, I hear my name called over the intercom. At the bathroom door, I am met with 2 guards. One has neck-wrist-ankle shackles, while the other has extra chains and a gun drawn. It's go time.

                   Chapter 3
         With an officer on each side, I am led into the courtroom. The press immediately starts flashing pictures, trying to get the inside scoop on the worlds worst criminal being arrested. Seated at the criminal table, I’m already drowsy from lack of sleep. Hearing the judge list off the charges puts me to sleep. I must have been snoring softly because the officer on my right nudges me awake. I drowsily sit through the rest of the trial. The jury takes forever deciding the conviction, so I decide to take a little snooze. It must have been announced when I was asleep because I am woken up by the gavel. The first thing I heard was ‘court is dismissed’. Walking out, the officer informed me that I was guilty, I had been tried as an adult, and I had received a life sentence in federal prison.
         On the way back to jail, I hear a train whistle. That's odd. The nearest train is in Bethel. When I look out the window, a very unusual train is coming to a halt at a nearby station. Some of the cars are painted neon orange, and the windows have bars going both ways. The cars in the very back don't have windows and were the same orange with matching yellow stripes. All of the train cars say ‘YELLOWBLADE PRISONER TRANSPORT’ on them. Whoopee. I’m going to the most secure prison in America. From the way that the train guards handle themselves, I can tell that escaping this train will be no simple task. I am led to the train and given a seat. As I take in my surroundings, an officer addresses me. “Don’t try any funny business, Janet. If you would just wait 5 days, then you’ll be able to get off this train.” I just shrug it off. Around midnight, the guard currently on duty falls asleep. My chance to escape! I immediately start to file at the window lock. Before I get very far into it, I see two wires, barely visible, snaked into the window frame. I don't want any alarms going off, so I quietly put the file away. Too late! A passing guard sees the file! This guard seems strangely familiar, although I cannot place my finger on why.
         “Just what do you think you’re doing with that file?”
         “Filing my nails?”
“With the window lock already tampered with? Very funny, Janet. Come with me.”
When we are passing between train cars, I slam the door behind me. [somewhere in here, indroduce Catherine and her roll in the story]

"Janet, I swear, could you be any louder," She asks, whirling around.
Wait a second, I know that voice."Catherine? Is that you?"
"Surprise," she replies coldly. Catherine is my twin sister. I am her elder by 7 minutes, 40 something seconds. She graduated high school at 16, and finished police academy shortly after. Now being in the police force for two years, she was hired by the FBI to keep track of me and what I do. I managed to elude her for the past year, but seeing her here catches me off guard.
I break her nose. Catching her off guard, I drive a roundhouse kick into her gut. Writhing in pain, she pulls out a handheld TASER. Swinging it at me, I dodge it, although barely. I go for a leg sweep, but she manages to jump over it. Striking from behind, the TASER hits my upper arm. I scream out in pain but quickly kicked her in the stomach. Leaping off the accelerating train, I hit the ground running. I can hear her profanities and curses growing fainter and fainter.

         Five hours later, I am still running, my arm screaming in pain. Luckily, I stumble upon an old abandoned farmhouse, easily a hundred years old. Curious, I decide to explore. There is a small kitchen/den area. Down the hall, there are a few bedrooms. As I am entering one, I see a small snake slithering out the door. The bedroom looks like a tornado hit it; there is trash everywhere. There are a few work dresses, along with a small handbag. I shed the jumpsuit and put on my civilian clothes. I throw the jumpsuit down the well. After doing that, I wander back inside to explore the surprisingly deep cellar. Several hours later, the sound of helicopters draw me to the upstairs window. Not risking my freedom, I go to the bedroom and fall asleep.

                   Chapter 4
         That evening, I wake up at sunset. Perfect. I decided to put my things in the bag I found, then set out. After hours of walking, I came upon a small park. As I climb the fence, I spot a magnificent pecan tree. I am already exhausted from the long walk, and climbing the tree drains the last of my energy. It has been a long day… I’m soon asleep. I wake up to the sound of teenage girls happily chatting. Sleeping in the tree made me sore all over, so I try to shift my weight. The branch makes a sharp cracking noise. The girls stop talking.
         “What was that?” one voice asked.
         “Not sure.” another voice said.
         “Let's get out from beneath-”
Suddenly the branch I'm sitting on breaks! Screaming, I plunge to the ground. As I fall, I take a few branches down with me. As I slam into the ground, one particularly large branch lands on my ribs, pinning me down. More branches come thundering down around me. As soon as I think it's all over, one more comes down, hitting me square on the forehead. After one final crack, everything goes black.

         When I come to, I’m hurting all over. I’m lying in the back of what looks like an ambulance. Except that there are 14 cops all squeezed in the cab. I try to turn my head, but the pain I feel is just too much.
         “I think she's awake.” a deep voice said.
         “How do you know?” a female voice questioned.
         “Her eyes are open.” came the reply.
         “Good thing she’s injured, or else we’d all be dead by now!” a third voice commented. The rest of the cops shushed him.
         By this point, I've mustered enough strength to whisper, “Where are you guys taking me?”
         “Don't you worry your little self about that. You just go back to sleep.” The first voice said. Before I can respond, I slip unconscious. The rest of the ride, I slip in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, the van came to an abrupt stop, waking me. The doors opened, and the first 5 officers step out. As I am wheeled out, I try to sit up. As I do, my ribs begin to kill me. Soon, we reach a large white building. Inside, they navigate a maze of hallways. Finally, we reach my destination. The well lit room has a small window with bars. Am I at the prison? Hospital?? Insane asylum??? A nurse walks in, holding a syringe.
         “Here is the drug you ordered. Fifty milliliters as requested” The nurse said, handing it to an officer.
         “Thank you, ma’am.” the officer replies.
Wait. Drug?? Oh shoot, are they gonna-
As quick as a flash, the officer sticks the needle in my arm. As I slip unconscious one last time, I hear a voice say,
“Next stop, Yellowblade.”


                   YellowBlade Bell Schedule

         (05:00-06:17) Wake up, brush teeth, get a shower, etc.
         (06:20-06:57) Breakfast
         (07:00-10:57) Courtyard time
         (11:00-11:57) Free Time
         (11:55) warning bell
         (12:00-1:57) Lunch
         (2:00-5:57) Rec time
         (6:00-7:57) Cell time
         (8:00-8:27) brush teeth, get a shower, etc.
         (10:30) Lights out bell
         (10:32) Hall check/Cell check
                   Cell checks will be done periodically throughout the night.

Chapter 5

         When I come to, I am in a musty, damp, dimly lit room. Suddenly, all the memories come flooding back. The arrest. The train fight. The tree fall. The “hospital”. I jolt up. Pain shoots through my right side, making me wince. I groan.
Suddenly, a young girl hangs over the edge of the bunk bed. She has braids, looks to be in her mid-twenties.
         “Oh good! You’re awake. I thought I heard you moving.”
         “What? Who are you?” I demand.
                   “Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot to introduce myself,” she says, climbing down the ladder. “My name is Tracy. Tracy Harbing. I will be your cellmate.”
                   “Okay,” I say, peering at her. She is dressed in a faded orange jumpsuit. Introducing ourselves, we each listed off our crimes. Like myself, she had been a 12-year-old criminal genius. She had been a part of quite a large gang in Chicago. She was their main hitman and had been paid to kill the vice-president at 15. Although she had been caught, she was lucky she wasn’t given a death sentence. Instead, she was given a life sentence in prison. When she asked what I was in for, I simply said, “Do you recognize the name, Black Cat Janet?”
                   “Wait a minute. You’re Black Cat Janet? The Black Cat Janet???”
         “Yeah, you surprised?”
“Well, kinda. I was just wondering-”
I interrupt. “How I got arrested?”
         “Yeah.”
         “It's a long story that I do not want to expl-”
Out of nowhere, a bell in the hallway rang, making me jump out of my skin. A click of a sliding bolt comes from the door. Then the lights go out, plunging the cell into darkness.
Laughing, Tracy explains. “That's the lights out bell, obviously. If you get caught outside your cell after that bell, there will be consequences.”
         “How do you know?” I ask.
         “I’ve done it,” she says, lowering her voice. “You do not want to know what they do to you.”
         “What do you mean, you don't want to know?”
She lowers her voice even more. " Well, they put you in isolation for a month, and that's just for the first offense. After that, I don't know what they do. Isolation was enough for me."
         "Ohhhhh, ok. Thanks. G'night, Tracy."
         “Goodnight.”

                   Chapter 6
         The morning bell wakes me from the dead. Tracy had to show me around, and it's awkward, being new.
         “This is the bathroom. This is where you will take a shower, brush your hair and teeth in the mornings and evenings, and all that fun stuff,” Tracy says
         “Ok. When do we eat?”
         “In about fifteen minutes.”
         Twenty minutes later, and I’m chowing down on some decent biscuits with eggs and gravy. I’m about to wipe my mouth when a shadow appears over me and my food. Turning around, I see a figure, more giant than human, looming over me.
         At six-foot, nine-inches, the giant has an unshaven face, wild red hair, and a fire burning in his eyes.
         “May I help you,” I ask.
         “You’re in my seat. Now beat it.”
I snort. “Excuse me? I believe I was sitting here first. Now you beat it.”
He straightens out his shoulders, obviously insulted. “What did you just say?”
         “Never mind. I”m moving, but just to please ‘your majesty’,” I retort. As I get up, some of the people who were sitting in front of me shifted nervously.
         “Um, I wouldn’t exactly say that to Bruno...” Throughout the remainder of breakfast, I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my back…
At courtyard time, I followed the crowd to a sizeable open area, with everything sports from basketball to football to even weightlifting! I head over to the weightlifting area, find myself a bench, and go to bench pressing my usual 350. Unbeknownst to me, I had again taken the favorite spot of Bruno, the man-giant I had encountered during breakfast.
         “Well, well, well. So we meet again, Bruno,” I say.
         “You again! Is this some kind of game of yours?! Making me mad?!? Well, you’ve done it this time!! GET OVER HERE, YOU LITTLE *#%$*@!” he explodes, lunging toward me.
I squeak, try to dodge his hulking frame, but he manages to nab me by my hair. He drags me to the basketball court. This easily attracts a crowd, seeing a newbie already getting beat up. Bruno slams me to the ground but little does he know, this is not the first time I have been in a street-style fight. The last fight I was in, at least fifteen people died. But then, I had four of my 63 knives on me. Springing to my feet, I break his jaw, sending both the crowd and Bruno roaring. Apparently, I had underestimated Bruno, because he leaps up and starts beating me.          After about ten minutes, I'm almost completely drained of my strength, and I resemble little more than a black-and-blue pulp. Drawing his arm back, Bruno is about to deliver the final punch when, suddenly he drops me, howling in pain! Someone kicked his no-no square, and hard too. Staggering back, Bruno starts beating my anonymous hero. Barely conscious, I see the fence. There is barbed-wire lining it to the ground. I manage to get myself off the ground and limp over to it. By the time I’m to the fence, I have partially regained my strength. Closely inspecting it, I select the only layer of barb that is not electrified. Gritting my teeth, I manage to tear out a length of wire about 5-feet long. Looking back to the court, I see that my hero is on the ground, obviously unconscious. This made me livid. Bruno is not going to get away with this! I sneak around to the back of the crowd, then make my way through. This is going to be easy. Just imagine it’s the horsewhip. Except longer, and more deadly. I draw my arm back and start flogging Bruno. He is caught off guard, and he obviously doesn’t know what to do in this situation. When his jumpsuit is in ribbons, and his back likewise, I go taekwon-do on him. All 7 years of training had prepared me well. Now, with black-belt determination, I was about to throw him into the fence when someone strikes me in the back of the head. Dropping the giant, my arms are grabbed from behind me. Struggling against my new adversary, I am forced to my knees.

Chapter 7
         “Don't even think about getting up, Scott,” a voice spits in my ear. I try to get a glimpse of my assaulter. He has ‘C. Washburn’ written on his front left pocket. It’s the dude that saved me! Confused, I continue to struggle against him, but to no avail. I am drained of all my strength, and he has recovered from his beating. Suddenly, 4 guards push to the center of the circle, all with their guns drawn. The lead one steps forward.
         “What is the meaning of this? Why is that girl being restrained? And, for the love, why is there some barbed-wire here?!”
Washburn answers. “With all due respect ma’am, this woman I am holding down was being beaten by Bruno, over there.”
“So why are you pinning her down?”
“I go in to save her, and she disappears. Bruno then beats me unconscious. When I wake up, I see Scott here flogging Bruno with the barbed-wire.”
         “Where did she get the wire from,” the main guard demanded.
         Through gritted teeth, I say, “I ripped it from the fence. I saw that Bruno had beaten this boy, who is currently restraining me.”
         Charles interrupted me, saying, “That will be quite enough, Miss Scott.”
         “No, no, let the girl speak,” replied the guard.
I continued. “As I was saying, when I came back to the ring, I saw that Bruno had beaten him unconscious. I was going to whip Bruno anyway, given the chance to escape his grip. Seeing Washburn unconscious just made me livid. So, I started flogging Bruno.” I try to get up but am forced back on my knees.
         “Well, I want to congratulate you, Charles, for stopping this atrocity. Had we tried, none of the guards would have been able to restrain her. But somehow, you are doing it by yourself! Please, let us help you,” the guard said. I hear the clanking of manacles and chains, and I am forced down onto my stomach. The manacles are secured to my wrists, and I am finally let up. Ashamed of being seen like this, my face flushes a bright red. I try to hide it with my purple-with-a-red-stripe hair.
         “Charles, you are free to go now. I think that we guards can handle her now.” As I am led off the courtyard, I see Charles staring at me, studying me. Then, we go inside
         As I am escorted through the halls, other prisoners stare at me. I try to shy away, but they recognize me anyway. I am led down to the basement(?) and an isolation cell.
         “Janet, this will be your new cell. We expect you to be able to stay out of trouble here. The bells will go on as usual, but you will be constantly supervised. There will be a guard stationed by your cell door, and they have full permission to shoot you if anything suspicious occurs. Alright?”
         “Yes ma’am,” I reply sarcastically.
The rest of the day passes uneventfully. The only regret I had about being isolated was how closely guarded it is. Seeing as I am in the basement, the guards’ break room is on the same floor. Apparently, they aren't the neatest housekeepers, because mice and rats are frequently seen. After eating (alone), I'm brushing my teeth when the mirror MOVES. The entire mirror moves, on its own. It slowly sinks into the wall, then folds into itself. Behind it is Washburn.
         "Ummm, This is awkward. Wait until tomorrow, then I'll explain." Washburn quickly says. Without waiting for a response, He replaces the mirror, leaving me perturbed. Whaaaa?


                   Chapter 8
         That night, I wake up to see Charles sitting against the wall opposite my bed.
         “The heck?! How’d you even get here?!, Any why are you watching me sleep” I ask, flabbergasted.
         “I have my ways.”
         “Didn’t the guard stop you?”
         “The guard,” he asked, laughing. “The guard assigned with night duty is a drunkard.”
         “Wait, so your cell is in this hall too?”
         “Yeah, I just didn’t screw up as badly as you on my first day. I’m still isolated, they just aren’t as strict.”
         I’m still a little edgy from the fight, but his appearance tonight lessened the feels. Being an introvert, the situation was becoming awkward for me.
         “So, I don't think we ever got properly introduced. My name is Charles. Charles Washburn. My grandfather runs the prison.”
         “That’s harsh. My name is Janet. Amelia Janet Scott. You’ve probably heard of the criminal ‘Black Cat Janet’?”
         “Wow! So you’re the criminal genius who was in the top 10 on FBI Most Wanted at age of twelve?”
         I cringed. “Unfortunately". I try to steer the conversation away from how I got on the list.
         When I was born, my parents were devastated when they learned I had a twin. They named me Amelia Janet Scott and my twin Catherine Dorian Scott. My dad neglected us because he stayed drunk. His favorite tavern was called Moonshine and Pawn. It originated in southern Texas, but it was now a worldwide business.
One day, when my dad came home especially drunk and high, my mom had fallen asleep on the couch. My dad, through his drug fogged brain, started beating her. I was a child genius, so I quickly figured out how to operate a gun. (My parents had plenty of those openly laying around the house.) One day, I decided that I had seen enough. I went to my room, got the 9-Caliber Glock I had hidden in my sock drawer, and confronted dad. He immediately went to grab the gun. I guess in a panic, I had pulled the trigger, because a loud shot rang through the house, and my dad dropped onto the floor. From that day on, my family hated me. This all happened when I was four. About two years later, I followed the school bully home, shot them behind their house, then hung them from a tree. Life after that was much easier, so I figured that killing all the people that bugged me would help life. By the time I was ten, I had already killed 25 people on my own, and I was getting hires from gangs. The day I turned twelve, I hit the top 10 Most Wanted, with a kill streak well over 100. Right now definitely is not the time to explain all this, so I just tell Charles the bare minimum.
“I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. You?”
“I was born and raised in New York State.”
Ok.”
“So, where in New York were you raised?”
“An extremely small town called Bethel.”
“How small?”
“Fifty-eight people in total.”
“Wow! I was raised in Chicago, Illinois. We had approx. 2.7 million people.”
He thought about this for a moment. “I bet you got lost a lot. Sometimes, I get lost too…”
“In a town of fifty-eight? Where could you possibly get lost?”
He looks at me, then smiles. “In your eyes.”
I stare at him quizzically.

Chapter 9
The next night, Charles is there when I get out of the shower room.
         “Alright, Houdini. How do you keep getting into my cell?”
         He walks to the mirror, then completely removes it from the wall. Behind it is a cinder-block tunnel.
         “H-How did you do that, and where does that tunnel go,” I ask him. Instead of replying, he crawls into the tunnel.
         “Follow me. I have something I want to show you.”
         “Where we going?”
         “I, can't really explain right now...” he says, gesturing towards the door.
         “Ohhhhh. Ok. got it,” I say, still unsure of what he's up to.
         At the end of the tunnel was the old abandoned boiler room. Looking around, I see a table, with some stuff on it. Looking closer, I realize It was the tools. Combined with my own tools, it was enough needed to escape! I was in awe of how much progress he has made. He has a grappling hook made from stolen silverware, a rope he later explained he took from a supply closet, a boat made from life jackets, a motor made from I-Don’t-know-what, and oars from broom handles and plates duct-taped together. On the table, he has what looked like two painted model heads made from foam, with a PILE of different colored hair on the opposite end of the table.
         “So? What do you think?”
         “I think it’s amazing! But, what is the hair for?”
         “It’s for the heads. The night we escape, I wanted us to-”
         “WOAH, Woah, Woah, Woah, Woah. Stop.”
         “What?”
         “Okay, first off, who is we?”
         “Oh yeah, about that. I was wanting to know if you wanted to, you know, escape together? Maybe?”
         This caught me off guard. Ok so first, he used a sweet pickup-line yesterday. Today, he asks me to escape with him. What’s next? It’s only my second day at the prison, and I’m already being offered a way out. Is he trying to sweet talk me into something? What is he up to?
         “Hello? Janet? Earth to Janet here, come in Janet. Hello?”
         "What? Oh, right. Yeah, I guess so, for now. Back to the hair.”
         “Ok, so the hair clippings are for putting on the model heads. The night we escape, I was going to put them in the beds, so the guards will think that we are still asleep.”
         “But you said that the guard stays drunk. What other guards might be out there?”
         “Oh, you know, the occasional guard that might pass by? Anyone who might take the effort to peep their head in the door?”
         “That's right. The guard’s break room is on this floor, isn’t it?”
Our watches simultaneously beep, reminding us of the time.
         “It’s 11:30. We should probably get going. Same place same time tomorrow,right?”
         “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

         Three months later….

                   Chapter 10
         I mentally review our escape plan. First, Charles and I are going to meet up in the shop. He would lead me to his cell. Then, I would bend/break the bars on his window, depending on how thick and strong they were. However, I would leave a singlular bar. Then, I would tie a rope onto the single bar, and slide down with the raft on my back. Charles would follow with the oars and motor on his back. I wasn’t sure if the grapple hook worked, but I was sure that we’d figure that out when we meet tonight.
As the 8:28 P.M. bell rang, I looked at my watch. At midnight, the guards would do another cell check, so we wouldn’t have much time. At about 10:00 P.M., the guard came lumbering down the hall, drunk as usual. He pauses in front of the cell door, then promptly passes out. Concerned, I walk up to the bars. Something was sticking out of the nape of his neck. Looking closer, I see that it is a sleeping dart.
         “Psst. Janet,” someone whispers.
         “Charles? Is that you?”
         “Yeah. can you reach through and grab the dart from his neck?”
         “Yeah. After this, go to the shop.”
         “Ok.” I reach through the bars to grab the dart. Right as I did, a second guard comes into the hall!
         “What are you doing?”
                   “Uhhhhh…..”
         “And what is that you’re reaching for?”
         “Uh…..”
BANG!! The intruding officer falls to the floor. Charles is behind him holding an iron skillet.
         “What the heck? How did you get there?!”
         “No time to explain. Go get the you-know-what, put it you-know-where, then go back to the shop. It happens tonight!”

                   Chapter 11
         My heart is in my throat. We are escaping TONIGHT! I snatch the dart, then speed-crawl through the tunnel to the shop. Grabbing the head, I see that mine didn't have a face. Scribbling one on with a Sharpie, I dashed back to my cell. I carefully placed it under the covers, folding a couple of pillows as the body. Once in the mirror, I turn to look around my isolation cell one last time. Goodbye, old prison cell. When I get to the shop, Charles is already loaded up and ready to go.
         “Are you ready to blow this pop stand?”
         “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, strapping the boat to my back. “Let’s go.”
We crawl through the tunnel leading to his cell. The window beside his bunk is literally touching the ceiling. It's only 18 inches tall, but it's very long. Charles hoists me onto his shoulders, and I grabbed ahold of the bars. No ordinary human would have been able to bend these bars; then again, I wasn’t an ordinary human. An ordinary human wouldn't be able to bench 400+ lbs. The steel bent with little resistance. I firmly attached the grappling hook to the bars. Teetering on the edge, Charles gives me a thumbs-up sign. Then I set off! Speeding down the rope, I ignore my burning hands. A I reach the bottom, the dark brown sand greets me with open arms. I give Charles the thumbs-up sign, then he comes down too.
         “Oh no,” Charles gasped.
         “What? What is it? What’s wrong? Did you leave something?”
         “Who is going to detach the rope from the window?”
         “Oh crap. I guess I will,” I say, already climbing up the rope. At the top, I notice that the grapple is hooked in from the inside. Barely hanging on, I manipulate the rope in a fashion to where I’m standing in the grappling part of the hook. I then steer myself down to the ground. On the ground, I start pulling the rope down behind me. Suddenly, it gets caught on something.
         “Janet. As quietly as you can, get the boat to the water and get in. An officer is holding onto that rope. Move,” Charles whispers. At the top of the rope, there is a hand grabbing onto the grappling hook. A head pops out, looks down and gasps.
         “JANET, GET THE BOAT IN THE WATER! START THE MOTOR AND LET'S GO,” Charles practically screams, taking charge. There was no time to spare. We’ve been spotted! Throwing the boat into the water, I jump in. Charles is right on my heels. Pulling the start cord, the motor roars to life. Then, we are off! When we are no more than 15 feet at sea, the alarms go off! I dive into the water, then guide the boat around the ever-moving spotlights. After we have passed all the searchlights, I crawl back in the boat. Then, Charles goes full throttle, and we quickly put at least 5 or 6 miles behind us. 10 minutes after the escape, the searchlights automatically turn off.
         “You think they gave up?” Charles asks me over the roar of the motor.
         “For now, yes. They are going to deploy the search helicopters soon. Those are something that worries me,” I reply, shivering
         “Why? There is What about the helicopters’ worries you?”
         “Well, for one, they are equipped with Thermal Imaging. That alone can get us caught in no time. Also, they have gyro-stabilized Binoculars, making it easier for them to spot us while moving.”
         “Like now?”
         “Wait, do you see a chopper,” I ask, turning frantic.
         “No. It's too foggy to see even fifteen feet in front of us.”
                   30 minutes later...
         “Charles cut the motor. Now,” I command. Over the noise, I hear the faint sound of a helicopter.
         “Charles, call me crazy, but I hear a helicopter.”
Charles cut the motor, then it is quiet for a few moments.
Whispering, Charles says, “You’re right. We need to get off this raft and to land ASAP.”
As if on cue, the outline of land appears in the fog.
         “Speak of the devil. Is that an island behind you,” I ask.
         "Yeah, come on. Let’s get to shore.”

                   Chapter 13
         The island had crystal white sand with quite large palm trees. About 30 feet from the shoreline was the strangest forest I had ever seen. The trees were curved in all different directions, but they weren't close together. Wild horses were going in and out of the woodline.

         "Wow," Charles says in awe, "this place is amazing."
         "Yeah, it really is", I agree.
         "You know what is even more amazing?"
         "Don't tell me, let me guess."
         "Ok?"
         "The fact that we escaped the most secure prison in America?"
         "I was going to say 'you', but that works too."
         "Ummmm, thanks? I'm guessing you like me?"
         "Kinda, sorta, yeah..."
         "Okay then.Wait, are those lights showing through the woods?"
         "Wait, seriously," Charles asked, surprised.
         "Yeah, you don't see them? Here, I'll just show you them in person."
         "What?"
         "Just follow me."
         "Ok?"

         Thirty-five minutes of trekking through the strange forest, and we arrive on the outskirts of a small touristy looking town called Hanga Roa. There is a local bank, a bar, a couple of restaurants, and the local school system. Charles wanted to go get a drink, but we didn’t have any money. So, we decided to go back to the shore and take a stroll.
         “So, now that we are out of prison, now what,” Charles asked.
         “Well, we need to find a place to stay and some source of food, water, clothing, and money. The fact that neither one of us speak Chilean Spanish or Rapa Nui will hinder things quite a bit.”
         “What in the world are you talking about?”
         “The two languages I mentioned are the two primary dialects of the island. As I said, neither of us speak either one of them,” I explained.
         “Buuuut there’s Google Translate.”
         “On an electronic, which we don’t have. Besides, Google Translate is a terrible translation option”
         “But we can just steal someone’s phone, or do something.”
         “Think about this. We just escaped prison.”
         “So? What does that have anything to do with this?”
         “We can’t go stealing stuff.”
         “Well, why not?”
         “We’re already wanted by the authorities. They have already alerted the states, and they are probably looking for us.”
         “So?”
I slap Charles across the face. “You dag-burn idiot! If we steal something, then that will set up red flags! Then, they will know where we are!”
Charles decides to play dumb. “Who will know?”
I had had enough of him and his shenanigans. “I’m giving you to the count of 10 to get the heccing-heck out of here before I kill you with my bare hands.”
         “Then do it. You won't be able to even touch me.”
Enraged, I lunge for his throat. Before I know it, Charles has grabbed my arms and twisted them to where he is behind me. Once again, I am forced to my knees. This time, Charles holds down the cervical nerve in my neck. Then, everything goes black.

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