I think I am learning my way around stories and what makes the characters tick. My last two stories completely took me (and some readers) by surprise, so I figured I would go for more of an action feel with this one. Truth is stranger than fiction, and since I am basing this on a real life FBI case, it will be interesting to see the direction it takes. I don't own Criminal Minds. Why? Because sometimes life is just that unfair!

Despertar

2209 Hours. The Kentucky Minimum Security Correctional Facility outside Danville.

Lights out. Silence fell so quietly that if you listened carefully, you could almost hear rabbits snoring. Settled out in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky, the Danville Correctional Facility housed the least violent criminals of society. The ones that committed a crime worse than jail time, but not quite enough to warrant prison were housed in a place that slightly resembled a boarding school. It was more like a boarding school for wayward students.

Correctional Officer Truman cast a glance at the TV monitors and let out a deep breath. It appeared to be another quiet night, and he was okay with that. Most nights were uneventful, and although not boring by any definition, sometimes the twelve hour shift seemed to last forever. Another glance at the screens, and a fill in the blanks for the Sudoku puzzle, he stood up, stretched, and reached for his coffee cup.

Coffee sounded good and he was glad the guard before had made a fresh pot before leaving for hourly rounds. As he poured, he rubbed his eyes. What he would give for a nap. The baby had been colicky and kept him awake--kept everyone awake, he amended. He really was looking forward to the three days off at the end of the week.

As he took a sip, his ears perked at a slight noise. Senses suddenly on high alert, he put the cup down and reached for his side arm. Without warning, a sharp pain invaded the back of his head. Cradling his head, Officer Truman turned around to view his attacker. Before he could speak, he was hit again across the temple. Everything went black as he fell to the ground.

Standing over the officer, a short stocky man with rage in his eyes went to swing again.

"Frank! Stop!" a voice commanded.

Frank stopped. And looked up. "He saw us, George!"

"He's out; let him go." George replied, as he started scavenging thru the desk looking for something, anything to aid in their escape. "Get his keys." Finding the object, he grabbed it and shoved it in his pants pockets. Then with a quick swipe of his arm, he tossed the computer monitors to the floor.

"You get the keys?" he asked as he knelt beside the unconscious officer. Frantically he searched the pockets, pulling out handcuffs and a wallet. Reaching over, he took the side arm and stood up. "Let's go." Yanking open the door, he rushed out the door. Frank looked at the officer and delivered one last kick in the side. Then he followed his friend.

Sneaking out toward the parking lot, the two escapees tried a couple of cars before finding one the key fit to. Looking over their shoulders, George started the car. Shoving it into gear, it took everything he had to calmly drive out of the lot. Pointing the car toward the highway, they sped off into the night.

"You shoulda let me kill him," Frank replied bitterly.

"No. He's got a kid; I don't want his kid growing up an orphan like I did."

"I grew up without a father and I turned out all right."

George cast a glance at his partner in crime. "Exactly. The plan was just to knock him out and run. Not kill him. I figure that it should be another hour or so before they find him. We'll have to pull off and get supplies. It's going to be hard to find us in the dark, so we got a head start. I figure a full tank of gas and some grub will get us out of Kentucky."

Frank tuned the radio so country music filled the air. "Where we headed? Arkansas?"

"No, they'll be expecting us to head west; I think we can get out of this state in a couple of hours. You ever been to Virginia?"

"Nope. I try not to go to states I can't spell."

George gave a chuckle. Frank wasn't too bright, but he sure was the man to have on your side in a fight. "I figure we can get to Virginia, ditch the car, and get a new set of wheels. Nothing like getting lost in the mountains."

"So, what are we going to do for cash?"

"I'm figuring Officer Truman's wallet can help us out for a while. After that we rely on our talent and wits."

"Ain't no good trying to rob a bank without a gun." George pulled Officer Truman's side arm out from underneath the seat. Frank looked at with disdain. "That ain't nothing but a pea shooter."

"Yeah, well, tellers aren't too smart. And we just need enough to get established."

No one talked for a long moment as they listened to Chely Wright. As her dulcet voice faded off into a commercial, Frank turned to George. "So where abouts in Virginia are you headed?"

"Ever hear of a town called Luray?"

"Larry?"

"Luray. I grew up about 60 miles east in Manassas. It ain't much of a city, but it's got mountains and cabins we can hide out in until we find another vehicle."

"Luray." Frank tried the word on his tongue. "I think I could like that place."

"Yeah." George turned up the radio, as he pressed the gas pedal to urge the car faster out of Kentucky. They had made a clean get away. Now it was time to start over. Life was going to be good. And if it wasn't, well he'd take care of that when it happens.