Can I just say that if it wasn't for Fearlee pointing out that I said I'd be updating sooner, this chapter most likely wouldn't be out as soon? Yeah. I try to keep to my promises. So sue me.

Anyway, as for this story, I have a faint outline of where I want it to go, but not how it'll get there, so yes, some bits may be pointless, and I might say they're necessary to the story, though they may not be. I don't even have a point to make with that sentence. I just said it.

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters aren't mine. Those you don't recognise, well, yeah. They're mine. Same for the plot. Bahaha… hahahahaha.

Escape Chapter 11

Alex Rider

"When you strike the Empire, the Empire strikes back," Alex quoted from Star Wars Episode V, and knew that James would instantly understand this. When Alex first met James, he'd been wearing a Star Wars T-shirt. However, he wouldn't necessarily understand how that applied to Alex's situation.

He left it at that, and James didn't speak again.

Alex was awoken shortly after seven the next morning by two quick knocks on the door of his and James' room.

"Get up! I want you out and dressed in five minutes!" Mr Sprintz's gravely voice called, aggravated.

James mumbled incessantly, pushing his face into his pillow for a moment before his feet moved out of the sheets, falling to the floor with the rest of his body sliding down, ungracefully, until he knelt on the carpet.

Alex was wide awake at the first rap on the door, his eyes flashing open and taking in his surroundings through his one eye that wasn't smooched in the cushion of the sofa he was currently lying on. As the realisation settled in that he wasn't in danger, he sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings; James, the git, was on the nice and comfy-looking bed the hotel provided - and considering his father was a millionaire, who wouldn't be seen dead in anything less than a 5star hotel, he was guessing the bed was more than just comfy - three bags lay on the floor, one open with jeans spilling out of it, one zipped shut, and the other Alex's where he'd dropped it against a wardrobe on the side wall connected to the door earlier that night. On either side of James' bed, ordinary bedside table cabinets where placed there, with a clock that was facing towards the bed, out of Alex's sight, in front of several Euro coins and notes and James' watch.

Moving off his make-shift bed, he made his way to the en-suite bathroom to use the toilet and splash his face with water. Not having a toothbrush, and not wanting to use James', Alex left the bathroom mere minutes after he'd entered, turning to his friend who was pulling a top over his head.

"Bathroom's yours. You want me to wait for you, or go out and meet your dad in daylight?" He asked, unsure of the latter option - although Alex wasn't altogether afraid of Mr Sprintz, he just wasn't sure how he should approach the man. Casual? Formal? Certainly respectful, of course, but he'd rather James lead the way in the small talk before they got down to the real stuff.

"Wait. Knowing dad, he'll rip into me about manners and how I should 'show you around'. Like there's anywhere much to go but this room and the one out there, anyway," James said, bitter about his father.

Once James was done in the bathroom, they headed out together to see Mr Sprintz looking between his watch and the bedroom door, waiting for them to come out.

When he spotted the two boys, he glared at James, telling him "I'll deal with you in a minute, James. Now, Alex, wasn't it?" At Alex's nod, he continued. "I want to know all the details of what's happened, what you were doing in that park, and what you're going to do next. And don't lie to me. If there's one thing I hate, it's lies. Got that?"

Again, Alex nodded, and told his story of how Jack had been killed, his journey on the Euro Star train, being trapped inside of it with the SAS, and finally his escape to the park that turned into an ambush, seeing James there and running away with him.

"As for what's next, well, I don't really know. The main plan was to just get out of England, then just work my way around," he lied. If there was one thing Alex had learnt about people, it was that he couldn't trust anybody but himself. After how everybody had only used Alex, and had never been there for him, it was best to reveal as little as possible. For all he knew, Mr Sprintz had called the police already and had told them of what was happening. The less the man knew, the better - for Alex.

Past experiences, as well as his uncle's lessons, had taught Alex to always be prepared - always have a plan, no matter how irrational or impossible it may be to do. At least then, he'd have an objective to complete, and could then change the plan accordingly.

Alex did have a plan, although sketchy, and wasn't about to tell Mr. Sprintz what it was. He kept his eyes trained on the man as he paced up and down the front room, considering Alex's words. Finally, a quiet 'hmm' came from him, accompanied but a sigh.

"So where do you think you'll be going next?" He asked.

Alex didn't answer for a moment, as if in thought, before answering.

"I don't really know. Me and Uncle Ian used to live in Spain for a little while when I was younger, and I know he still owns the house. Well, I guess I own it now," he frowned at this thought. "Anyway, I think I'm just gunna head there. It's familiar and we had alarms and actually, now that I think of it, I'm sure there was a few traps there, too, so I'd be pretty safe if anyone came after me," he finally concluded.

It wasn't until Alex had thought of the Spanish home that he realised that there actually was a few traps in the house – his uncle had told him not to touch certain things there, from vases to paintings, which he'd assumed had a high price on them, so Ian wouldn't want him near them in case they'd been accidentally knocked over. Now, though, Alex wondered if they served other purposes. One day, he'd find out, he promised himself.

"I see," the man said. "And how exactly do you expect to get there?"

"Buses, trains, taxis?" Alex questioned. "However I can, really. Travel only at night if need be. Steal a car or too. So long as I stay away from trouble, and try to not be in too many CCTV's, then it should be easy enough." Alex purposefully said the latter part of the sentence to Mr Sprintz. He knew, really, that staying out of sight of any government controlled CCTV's would be difficult in itself, not to mention satellite images that he'd have no control over, an impossibility. Yet if Mr Sprintz thought him to be dumb enough to expect to stay away from these, then perhaps he'd take pity on him and help him on his way. "Trust me when I say, sir, that I wont be captured by them. Right now, I'd rather die. Better than die working for-"

He was cut off, as the hotel telephone rang. Mr Sprintz walked calmly over to it, and picked it up.

"Yes?" He sighed, impatient.

Alex only caught this side of the conversation, and really, the only thing Mr Sprintz said before the phone slammed in its holder was the 'yes'.

"You need to leave, now. They're here, trying to get up. The hotel is refusing them right now, but they wont hold them off for long. Go!" He was walking into his bedroom as he shouted this, looking over his shoulder at Alex. Alex immediately ran to his own, grabbing for his bag.

Alex was lucky; they were on the second floor up, and facing away from the main road the hotel was placed on, and consequently were the SAS were placed, waiting.

Strapping his bag onto his back, he walked over to the door leading onto the balcony. He was just placing his left leg over the railing when Mr Sprintz came back to him, and handed him a large amount of Euros.

"Take this, boy, and run. Go out onto the fields, and run to the trees. Head south-west for at least 25miles, and it will take you to the Calais Ville. It's the closest train station, yet small enough to not attract too much attention. Get on whatever train you can there. Now go, go!"

He almost pushed Alex off the balcony in the rush, before turning himself around, heading towards the front door.

Alex wasn't sure what the man was going to do next, and as far as he was concerned, it wasn't of consequence. The only thing was was getting away, and getting away now.

Lifting himself over the railings – finally – after shoving the money in his backpack, he slithered down until his fingers were on the bottom ledge. Swinging his feet inwards, he let go of his grip and dropped down three metres onto the balcony below. Repeating the same actions again, he dropped onto the ground, listening for any movement.

Not hearing any footsteps signalling the soldiers' movements, he took a deep breath, waited for a moment, and pushed off, legging it for the tree line.

He wasn't stopped, and it was with that that Alex started his journey north, heading for what was really the closest train station – Calais-Fréthun, less than 10miles away.

Okay, so not exactly a long chapter, I know. But I felt it had to end here. I'm thinking, once I've posted more of this story – if not completed it, I'll post outtakes from this story; For example, Jack's death, maybe an extremely short chapter of Mr Sprintz's point of view of this chapter (including the phone call, maybe), and reasons for why the SAS weren't immediately allowed up into Sprintz room, and how they found Alex in the first place. Just wondering if any of you would be interested in that?

Anyway, rate and review, please :D

I'm thinking of having a sequel for this story (I'm planning on Alex getting away for the ending, but that may change – right now, I'm not too sure I want him getting away, but meh,) where Alex is forced, somehow, into going back to England for one reason or another, and is faced with either being captured, or taking on MI6, and doing quite a severe beating to them.

How many of you would like that?