The Escape

Marion always shouted at the stupid movie heroine, running in a straight line while the vehicle bore down on her from behind.

Yet there she ran, bang down the middle of the road, doing the exact damn thing.

But it wasn’t as if she had a choice.

The tall rock walls on either side looked too high to jump. And she was no athlete. Should a miracle occur, and she managed to leap up and grab hold of the top of one, instead of pulling herself up and over, she’d hang there, imitating a turkey in a Dickens butcher shop window, until they caught up with her.

Her ragged breath hitched as she sprinted down the lane. There was a pain in her side, and she gasped for air, but forced her legs to keep moving. After getting away, she must now make her escape.

Hope surged, as the stone confines gave way to a thick hedgerow, but evaporated, as she examined the towering shrubbery. It wasn’t much better than the rock walls, for someone trying to get off the road. With bristling branches growing tightly interwoven, the hedge would grab hold of her like Velcro if she tried to dive through that impenetrable mass.

The rumble of a motor sounded in the distance. Her eyes darted left to right, her breath coming in wheezes. The noise of their van grew louder. Once they came around the bend and spotted her, she would hear the engine rev and their shouts as they raced towards her.

She might as well save her energy. Perhaps if she turned and stood with her arms in the air, they wouldn’t…

There!

Up ahead, the roots of the hedge spread in a small opening, probably caused by animals pushing their way through. She winced, comparing the size of the hole to the width of her hips, and bitterly regretting those desserts she’d never been able to resist… Still, this appeared her only option.

She threw herself to the ground, diving headlong into the cavity, then wiggling forward with all her strength, ignoring the fact she was over fifty and overweight. Branches stabbed and clutched at her, scraping her back, as stones poked up from the earth, gouging her belly.

For a terrifying moment, her hips did wedge. But desperation spurred her, and she dragged herself free, an inch at a time, knowing she’d pay with severe bruises tomorrow.

When her upper body cleared, she rolled over and pulled her legs free—as car brakes screeched on the other side of the hedge. She yelped and leapt to her feet, staring wildly around.

Those large men wouldn’t fit through that tiny opening. Marion was sure of it. Which meant she had a moment to consider her three options.

First option, go right, backtrack in the direction she’d come.

Second, turn left, and follow the road.

Or third, keep straight across the pasture in front of her.

She rejected retracing her steps at once. No way, no how. She had worked far too hard to escape.

Continuing along, lay in the same direction they must drive their vehicle. They could easily intercept her if they found a gap—like a gate—in the hedgerow.

Which left three, going forward, as her only real option. A thin line of trees on the far side of the field offered some shelter and, if she was lucky, might turn into a forest. Or it may not. Do I have a choice?

However, since that did seem the most obvious direction, they would probably choose that one to follow her.

Though this was not the time, Marion spared a thought for the others. She recalled Suzie’s sweet face, always a little puzzled, and Big Lou’s scowl. Should she have brought them with her?

No, she decided. They would have slowed her down and got them caught right away. But they would be pleased she’d stolen her freedom. She knew that.

Stop wasting time! Yet she still hesitated.

Car doors slammed, jerking her head around. Marion started running forward, toward the tree line. Let them at least see her going in the direction they expected.

As soon as the trees hid her from sight, she changed her mind and made a sharp right. Do the unexpected. Which meant option one, backtracking in the direction she’d come. That was the only way to escape.

If she found a telephone, she would call Harold to come get her. He’d take her home and look after her. She just needed to find a phone.

Following the line of trees, staying hidden with hunted-animal cunning, she ran. Eventually, the trees gave way to a small park. She squatted in the bushes on one side, watching as two mothers played with their little ones.

She recalled those days. Sarah was all grown up now, but Marion remembered. Oh yes. “Swing me higher, mommy,” she whispered, her gaze following a tiny girl flying high, the child’s laughter filling the still afternoon air with delight.

Too soon, the women collected their protesting children and left the park. She watched them go with sad eyes, then gave a start. She glanced around. What should she be doing?

She took a deep breath. Oh yes, a phone. She must call for a ride.

Marion followed the same path as the mothers. She crept to the edge of the clearing and peered into the village square.

For a wonder, a telephone-booth sat tucked into the alley by a pharmacy. Everyone used cellphones nowadays. She remembered Harold complaining about that. Phone-booths had become as rare as hen’s teeth, he would say, and roar as if he’d invented a great joke.

You couldn’t help laughing when Harold did. He possessed one of those infectious laughs, which made everybody around him chuckle too. Though he didn’t laugh so much anymore, and she considered that unfortunate.

Once she got home, perhaps he would smile more.

Nobody seemed to pay her any attention. In fact, the square looked empty. At that time of the afternoon, people were either headed homeward to prepare supper, or hurrying to pick up their older children from school, or they remained stuck at work.

She scuttled down the sidewalk, cut across the road, and slipped into the phone-booth; furtive eyes peeled for anyone paying her any mind. Made it! Marion couldn’t resist a triumphant little crow, quickly stifled. She mustn’t draw unwanted attention to herself.

As she picked up the receiver, she froze. Coins. She’d forgotten her damn change purse. Her heavy breath hitched with a stifled sob. How could she telephone Harold if she didn’t have any money? She fumbled in the empty coin slot.

Nothing. Just her luck.

Maybe the operator would allow her to place a collect call? Perhaps that only applied to long-distance calls. But if she explained she had no coins, and asked politely…

A knock on the glass of the phone-booth startled her.

Turning slowly, she gazed up at the large man, wearing a white coat, and shaking his head at her. He spoke into his walkie-talkie, then turned back to her. “Alright, Marion. You’ve had your fun. Time to go back.”

She sagged against the wall. Caught. Again.

The door opened, and he gently pulled her out, as his partner drove up in the nursing home van. She winced as the door of the phone-booth bounced off a bruised hip.

They must have hidden inside the pharmacy, waiting for her. Clever!

She didn’t fight them. She’d gotten much farther than last time. Perhaps Harold would laugh if she told him about it when he visited. He should at least try to smile more.

Marion practiced her own best smile. “Do you suppose there will be cake for dessert tonight?”