Rawding, David 1 Life Within the Trap the Fall After the Summer of 2010
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Rawding, David 1 Life Within the Trap The Fall After the Summer of 2010 He figured if someone was to call him by a name at this very moment that the only proper name would be The Escapee. He'd discovered a while back how to rig his door so it wouldn't lock fully, yet there was almost no likelihood that he could escape the institution without help. He could, however, wander the halls and pass the other locked rooms. The Escapee intended to be quick; there were risks. He waited until he was sure the night shift had changed and then took off running. As he sprinted down the hall, his bare feet made a wet sound each time they slapped against the cold floor. The hard part was getting access to the bastard's room. The employees of the institution used these plastic key cards to lock away the unfortunates. He'd tried to imitate these devices, testing bits of metal against the locks, which ended in a series of failures. The Escapee tore down the hall praying that whoever was on duty wasn't watching him through the cameras. He flattened himself against the wall to get a load of the situation around the corner. The night staffer was a thin man with a blonde mustache and a weak chin. The sound of his thumbs punching the plastic keys of his cell phone made a serious racket; but, then again, the only sounds competing were a steady rush of air from the ducts and The Escapee's muffled heart. He crept closer, staying low, his calves balling up in anticipation. The staffer leaned back in his chair and yawned. The Escapee sprang and grabbed a loose pen on the desk. “Jesus!” was all the man was able to say. The Escapee held the man to the chair, the menacing pen tip brushing his neck. “I need your key card.” “Take it!” The man's arms were up. The card dangled from his belt by a clip. The Escapee snapped the card off its leash and hesitated. He looked at his captive's name tag. Rawding, David 2 “Jerry, I need a favor from you.” “Anything, man, just don't hurt me.” “I could stick you right here, right now, but I like you, Jerry. I don't want to see you get hurt.” The Escapee cocked his head to the right, while his eye lids stretched wide; he should have been an actor. “I need you to promise me you'll wait three minutes. Three minutes, you sit here, you don't move, don't call anyone . until I've done what I need to do.” “S-Sure, man. Three minutes. No problem.” “If you don't do that, I'll come back here. I assume you know who I am right?” Jerry nodded vigorously. “The guy from the news . you killed . those people.” “Bingo!” the Escapee said. “We got a deal?” “D-Deal.” “How many minutes, Jerry?” “Three minutes.” “Exactly.” He took the pen away from Jerry's quivering throat and took off back the way he'd come. As he ran he took a quick glance back over his shoulder and saw Jerry sitting stiff in his chair, afraid to move, afraid to breath. The dim light guided The Escapee past the face-sized black square windows. He stopped in front of room thirty-six and took a moment to catch his breath. It was dim inside, only the sliver of moonlight broke the darkness within. His hands trembled as he put the card up to the door and heard the lock retract. The green light told him to go. He pulled the door open and moved inside, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He saw—a vacant bed. Wait, where the hell is he? Shit. Had he been moved today? The room remained silent. Rawding, David 3 Chapter 1 The shark passed slowly through the water, quiet and fluid, a thick body of muscle and teeth. Maya saw it too late. “Jesus!” James covered his mouth. Maya's hand was flat across her chest as if taking a pledge. “I didn't see it coming.” James slid beside her, a broad smile parting his face. She'd fallen away from the tank only to be sucked back in again by the underwater views. Maya stuck her palm against the glass. The blue ripples of light from the tank found refuge in the diamond on her left hand. James admired the way the blue glow of the tank fell across her dark skin. He watched her eyes as they followed the schools of fish, whose flashing scales brushed by seemingly inches from her nose. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the tiny, sensitive hairs. Maya's bare arms slung around his neck. “I love you too, babe.” A rush of horniness sprouted from his crotch and rose up his torso to his head, spilling back down to his finger tips. Embracing the feeling, he lunged with his teeth bared. “Duna, duna, duna, duna duna.” “James, not here, you horn dog.” He began munching her neck. All she could do was squirm against the tank glass, half giggling, and half pushing away. James kissed her neck and left a trail of wet ovals. She scrunched up her face, inhaled sharply, then released a pleasure-filled exhale like jiffy pop exploding from the bag. Music. She fought against him—or pretended to—at first, but as he began tickling her armpits and blowing on her neck, she started to put force into her shoves. “Ahem!” James looked up from Maya's belly button and into her eyes. Her eyebrows jumped in response Rawding, David 4 to the cleared throat behind him. He turned to see a pair of parents wearing matching indignant frowns. Two little kids tugged about their dad's pleated pants: a red-cheeked boy wearing a corduroy Red Sox hat, maybe three, and girl in a pink dress, probably five. “Sorry,” Maya blurted out as she squeezed out of James's grasp. James felt himself smile, the humor outweighing the awkwardness, or maybe the awkwardness made it funny. Either way, the kids seemed to get it. James let himself get dragged away by Maya's strong grip. She took him further up the main tank, the heart of the New England Aquarium, conveniently built beside Boston Harbor. The central tank had the look of giant test tube with a ramp that circled to the top like the threads of a humungous screw. “You're ridiculous, you know that?” James ignored her sarcasm. “Ridiculously amazing.” “Honestly, why they let you work with kids . it's a mystery.” “Oh, come on, officer. You going to tell me I'm a bad social worker?” “Detective. 'Officer' makes me sound—” As she spoke James made a show of looking around then leaned in and mashed his lips to hers before she could continue. She kissed him back; her teeth holding him prisoner by his lower lip. A quick pinch to her thigh got her to release. At the top of the tank, they stuffed themselves between clusters of school kids. Together they gazed and pointed down into the tank's depths. A large sea turtle glided across the top of the water. Its spade-shaped head poked above the surface breaching for a quick breath. The way the light crosshatched its back made the turtle look like a living mosaic. “Look! The divers are getting in,” Maya said. James turned his head too fast and too sharp away from the turtle, because the black sun glasses Rawding, David 5 on his head continued to travel in the direction he'd turned. James watched helplessly as they flew out of reach and hit the water with a dull splash. “No!” he felt himself say, the word sounding more like a yelp. The crowd hugging the edges of the tank turned at his sudden distress. He could feel the blood filling his cheeks, while warm splotches of heat stained his pale neck. The glasses sank, spinning in a slow pirouette. He followed them until they were lost in a school of yellow fish. The divers, who were suiting up on the small platform along the tank, must have noticed the attention switch from them to James. James pointed to his head and then down into the tank. The older diver snapped his mask on, inflated his vest, and splashed into the water followed by his partner, a boney girl in a pink wetsuit. In a few fin kicks they were bobbing below James. The man took out his regulator, which to James looked like a big black pacifier. “What'd you drop?” The diver had a mess of wet, gray hair and his mask pushed against his face so hard that the skin on his forehead grew several deep trenches. “My sun glasses. I'm sorry about this—“ The man threw up a hand. “It happens, just about every day. We'll see if we can find them.” The diver stuffed the regulator back in his mouth and signaled to the girl. They made a slow descent and passed through heavy fish traffic. Behind him, James could hear people explaining what had happened to newcomers. He pulled at the collar of his shirt, which felt as if it was choking his neck. “At least it wasn't anything valuable,” Maya said, patting his hand. Bless her heart. The sun glasses may be cheap gas station quality, but they were worth a great deal more to James.