Big John sat in his cell reading a self-help book: Thriving Behind Bars.
He heard someone whisper his name and looked up to see a familiar face standing outside his cell door.
"John. It's Freeman." Freeman was his old cellmate who had escaped years ago.
"Freeman? What are you doing here?"
Freeman smiled roguishly.
"I didn't forget about you, brother, " he whispered. "I'm here to break you out of this prison like I promised I would."
"What?"
"Sorry it took me so long. I had a hard time finding you. I thought you were still on C-Block," Freeman said in hushed tones.
Big John stared at Freeman in disbelief. They had often spoken about escape. But Big John had finally resigned himself to his sentence.
"I don't know, man," he finally stammered.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Things have changed," Big John said.
"Nothing's changed. You're still locked up."
"I got a promotion," Big John said sheepishly. "I'm chairman of the advisory committee that reports directly to the warden. Check out this view."
The east side of his cell faced the mountains.
The west side had an unobstructed ocean view.
"It's still a prison. We gotta get you out of here."
"Sometimes, the guards let me out. They treat me like an equal."
"They get to go home to their wives and kids. You don't have a choice. You're not their equal." Freeman corrected.
"It's different, now. We have a golf course and swimming pool."
"Those who play their cards right enjoy privileges you might not even get on the outside."
"Privileges?" Freeman said sarcastically.
"I got my own luxury suite, cable, a sauna..."
"It has a walk-in closet. My uniforms are tailor made."
Freeman shook his head in disbelief.
"And check these out... golden handcuffs with diamond studs. Only shot callers get these."
"What's good with you?" Big John asked changing the subject. "You living the good life?"
"I live simply, but I'm free," Freeman said.
"Do you get back massages?" Big John asked.
"No."
"I do," Big John mumbled matter-of-factly. "What do you eat? Do you get three square meals a day?"
"No, I grow my own food and cook. It's hard work, but I enjoy it."
"I had lobster for dinner," Big John said. "Can I get you a drink? I have freshly squeezed orange juice?"
"No, we don't have time. We need to move."
"I've been moving all day. We had Zumba this morning."
Freeman looked dispirited. Big John read disappointment in his face.
"Freeman, I appreciate what you did coming back for me. But I'm OK. You should go before the guards see you. This isn't the place for you."
"No, John. THIS isn't the place for you. If and when you're ready to break out, follow this map. I'll meet you on the other side." Freeman handed Big John the map and disappeared.
Big John sat on his bed and looked over the map. Two things stood out:
1. escape wasn't really that hard, and
2. freedom was just a short crawl through a sewage tunnel.
He put the paper down and peered out the barred window that had been recently replaced and upgraded with stainless steel- not like the rusty iron bars lesser prisoners had in their cells. He could see the sun setting over the ocean casting beautiful ribbons of purples, oranges, and reds. He also saw a tiny figure emerge from a large drainage pipe just outside the barbed wire fence. Big John reached for the binoculars he used for birding. He recognized Freeman by his gait. Freeman dragged a canoe to the shoreline, got in, and paddled past the breakers. A few minutes later, he disappeared.
Big John always hated paddlesports.
Big John slipped into his favorite pajamas- the soft ones with "Big John" embroidered on the chest in Curly font. Most prisoners had their prison issued numbers on orange jumpsuits. His pajamas were haute couture.
He folded the escape plan and placed it between pages of the self-help book he hadn't finished reading. As he settled in to bed, he could hear a faint whisper for freedom that he thought he had silenced. But there is was again, barely audible. He pushed it away and closed his eyes before returning to sleep.
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