12 Out of the Frying Pan

As the two guards drew their handguns from their side holsters, dread filled my body. Rising to my feet, my bowels wanted to evacuate as the guard before my cell door sharpened his gaze on me, his handgun pointing at my feet.

The other guard pressed a button on his radio and spoke, "Please report, we await your orders." After several seconds of silence, he turned to his cohort. "My radio might be failing. Should one of us go see what's happening?"

"No. Even if the electronics are failing, we stick to protocol and remain with the prisoners. They must not escape. Got it?"

The other guard acknowledged his understanding with a simple nod as he returned his focus to my neighbor.

The lights above flickered, causing both guards to flinch, which in turn, sent a surge of panic through me since I feared the two men to be trigger-happy. As I nervously wiped my clammy palms against my orange jumpsuit, the lock inside the heavy steel door that secured holding cell room clicked. Both guards turned and pointed their guns at the door.

"Identify yourself!" barked the man in front of my cell, but no reply came. Slowly, the door opened a couple inches but no farther.

The guard before my cell held his aim on the heavy steel door as the other guard pointed his gun at my cell neighbor.

"Take it easy," I said. "There is no need to shoot us. We promise not to escape." I looked to my neighbor. "Right?"

"Hell ya," he replied. "Handcuff me to the bars, chain me to the floor."

The guard pointing his gun at my neighbor pulled back the firing hammer. "Shut it! No talking!"

My guard held his aim on the door as he too pulled back his weapon's firing hammer. "I said identify yourself!"

Perhaps out of desperation, I lifted my hands in the air as if surrendering. In my peripheral vision, I could see my arms trembling as my breathing labored under the tension in the room. My heart racing, I thought my life would soon end when something most peculiar happened. From the small gap in the door, the sound of a woman signing a foreign chant began to fill the room.

"Who's there?" barked the guard standing before my cell.

The singing continued unhampered, resonating off the walls, growing louder. The chant was slow and melodic, in a language strange to me. Finding the sound pleasing, my tremors soothed as the woman continued her chant unhampered. Focusing on the voice, I lowered my hands.

The guard pointing his handgun at my neighbor shifted his aim to the door, but even this man's demeanor had calmed when he asked his partner, "What do we do?"

The other guard began lowering his gun, but then lifted it once again, pointing it lazily at the door. His voice had also softened. "I don't know."

The dread in my body began to lift as I listened to the heavenly voice. The owner of the voice was clear to me as I whispered, "Mary."

When I staggered sleepily on my feet, the guards looked in my direction, but their guns now hung harmlessly at their sides.

Unable to step towards my cell door, I stumbled backward and flopped onto my cot. Closing my eyes, I listened to the melodic chant and soon heard Hiero's voice in my head.

We are taking you out of this place. Everyone is about to take a little nap.

Lying on my side, I smiled as my mind surrendered to the voice behind the door. Mary, I...I rem...

...

With Mary's voice in my thoughts, a hand gently tapped my face as I regained consciousness. Mary whispered in my ear, "Frederick, wake up. Frederick, can you hear me?"

With a gasp, I sat up quickly and began looking about. Before me, Mary and Hiero knelt, their arms ready to grip me if I should panic. Next to me, the prisoner from the adjoining cell lay on a hard rubber floor. Piecing together the recent events, I began breathing heavily and soon realized that I was in the back of the van that had no windows. Along the walls of the vehicle, I recognized the two benches with bars to which attached handcuffs. Glancing at my cell neighbor, I pulled on my face before turning to Hiero. "Is he okay?"

Hiero nodded. "Who is he?"

"I have no idea. I don't know his name."

Mary rolled her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me."

"No," I said. "Not because of my bad memory for names. We didn't share our names in case we were taken overseas."

Hiero's brow knitted as he gazed upon the face of the unconscious man. "What happens overseas?"

"That is where they force prisoners to talk." My body shuddered at the thought of what I may have escaped.

Mary became visibly angry. "Why don't they just torture their enemies here and then destroy the bodies?"

Surprised by her view, I gave my friend a confused look.

"What?" she said. "I come from more brutal times. I'm just curious to why they would change their methods."

"The public is not supposed to know of their existence, or of their affairs. They claim be working for the good guys, and we are supposed to give them our blind faith. These people keep their dirty laundry far out of sight. That is why they have others do their less scrupulous work."

"Typical." Hiero leaned forward and patted my cellmate on the face. "Wake up, princess."

As soon as the man's eyes open, he sat up. "Where are we?"

Hiero shrugged. "Suburb on the west side of the Twin Cities."

The man cautiously looked at my friends, combing his thoughts. "How did you get us out of there?"

"Sleeping gas," replied Hiero, the lie simple and believable.

The man turned to Mary. "I thought I heard a woman singing. It was beautiful. Was that you?"

Mary smiled. "Maybe. It might have been the gas."

Hiero reached into a large paper sack and presented an armful of clothes. "You two should be able to find something to wear out of these."

As my cellmate inspected the clothing, I lifted one foot in the air to show off my foam slippers. "Shoes?"

"Ah, right." Hiero reached behind him and presented two identical pairs of sports shoes. "I think we estimated your sizes correctly."

My cellmate looked at the tag and smiled. "Spot on."

Looking at my pair, I found them very close. "They'll work. Where did you get this stuff?"

Mary scooted back, taking a seat on a bench. "Some place called Goodwill. It's just a couple miles down the road."

The look on my face gave away my next question.

"We didn't steal the clothes," replied Mary.

Hiero laughed. "We used the money we stole from the government agents."

My eyes graced the interior of the van. "This van belongs to them; doesn't it?"

"Yes," replied Hiero. "We'll give it back once we get up north."

My cellmate paused his dressing to look at me. "North?"

"Canada," I said.

"Are you guys terrorists?" asked the man.

Exchanging a smile with Mary, Hiero replied, "Terrorists? Good God, no. Perhaps overly mischief at times, that's all. Are you a terrorist?"

My cellmate pulled on a new shirt and shook his head. "I'm just a businessman. I just had the misfortune of stepping on someone's toes in the government. Someone didn't like me dipping into their profits."

Mary looked into the man's eyes but said nothing.

The man glanced questionably at me. "What is she doing?"

"Reading your mind." I began pulling my arms free from my prison garb. "It doesn't hurt."

Mary broke her stare and shrugged. "He's telling the truth. He has never harmed an innocent."

Pulling his prison uniform free from his legs, the man began pulling on tracksuit bottoms. "Wish I had that ability. It would make my business dealings much easier."

I paused and turned to the man. "You don't actually believe me when I said she was reading you mind, do you?"

"Of course I do. I'm always open to the unexplained, which there is much of in this world."

As I continued dressing, I tried to think of other unexplained things that science had yet to spoil, but none came to mind.

Once I had finished changing, we exited the van to find ourselves standing in a quiet corner of a big-box shopping mart, squinting under the afternoon sun.

My cell neighbor turned in a slow circle. "This looks like Plymouth."

Hiero shrugged again. "If you say so. Are you good if we part here?"

"Ya. I actually know people nearby." The man reached out and shook Mary's hand. "Thank you."

Hiero next shook the man's hand. Remembering something, he raised a finger before reaching into his pocket to produce a thick fold of cash. Pulling off several bills, he passed them to my cellmate. "For your travels."

The man smiled as he tucked the cash into his pocket. "Thanks again." The man finally shook my hand. "Good luck in Canada."

"Good luck to you too."

Without another word, my cellmate turned and began walking towards the closest big-box store to disappear amongst its shoppers.

Hiero entered the driver's side door of the van and started the engine. Following Mary's lead, I entered with her on the passenger's side. As we began the long drove north, Hiero and Mary began commenting casually about the suburbs and shiny sports cars, later pointing out details in the landscape as the towns gradually became smaller and more distant apart. They tried to include me in their discussions, but I did not feel like talking.

Mary touched my arm. "What's wrong?"

"I never thought I'd be a fugitive."

Hiero guffawed. "I've been one most my life. It makes life much more interesting. You'll get used to it."

Mary frowned at her friend before saying to me, "You are innocent, and we all know it."

"I'm going to be labeled a terrorist by my country. That is what they will tell my daughter if they ever talk to her or her mother."

"Hiero leaned forward against the steering wheel. "Did you not say that these people are extremely secretive?"

"Yes."

"Then I doubt they will ever admit that they had you in their custody. They'll probably hide their mistakes just like their crimes."

Thinking over Hiero's words, I asked, "Did you cover your faces when you rescued me?"

From Mary's expression, she must have thought my question silly. "No. Why?"

"They have video cameras everywhere. They probably recorded your faces."

Hiero's brow furled with thought. "Do they record themselves or just everybody else?"

"Just everybody else. My cell had a camera pointed at it."

"When we made our way through the building, putting everyone to sleep with Laila's chant, we stumbled upon a computer room. We destroyed everything within it before moving on." Drumming his fists on the steering wheel, he simulated the smashing of equipment before winking at me. "And if they still have our faces, so what? I won't be visiting this area again for a very long time."

"Me too," commented Mary. "So what?"

Ready to reiterate her words, I paused with a new thought. "What about this van?"

"What about the van?" asked Mary.

"The government tracks everything, everything. This van is probably being tracked by satellites right now."

Hiero gnawed his lip. "What do you suggest?"

"The next large city coming up is St. Cloud. We should abandon the van at a busy shopping center."

"Okay," said Hiero. "We'll steal a different car to take us the rest of the way."

I frowned at the man.

"What?"

"I don't want steal an innocent person's car."

Smiling, Mary patted my knee. "Chased by the law, and you are still thinking of others. Don't worry; they'll get their vehicle back."

"Well..." I slowly began to smile at the situation. "Make it an old one."

"Old what?" asked Hiero.

"An old car. The newer cars now come with civilian tracking technology. I'm sure the government can tap into that too if they want."

"Right," said Hiero. "We'll let you pick the vehicle."

My thoughts next turned to Dee. Not wanting to leave her worrying, I asked, "Can we call my friend to let her know that I'm all right?"

"Sure," said Hiero. "Do you want to stop at the next gas station?"

Without a cell phone, I tried to recall the last time I saw an actual pay phone. "On second thought, I'll just send a quick post card."

Mary looked at me and smiled. "That would be nice. What are you going to tell her?"

"That I'm returning to the commune in Canada, that I'll write her when I can. Will the police question her?"

"Doubt it," said Hiero. "If they are this hush hush, they'll just watch her. Maybe read her mail."

"They already scan everyone's mail," I said.

"Really?"

"They claim that they only scan the outside of everyone's physical mail. But I'm sure they found a way to look inside...to keep us safe."

"Safe?" Hiero snorted as he stared at the road ahead. "Oh my; it must cost a fortune to spy on all of you."

When we reached St. Cloud, we drove to the busy shopping district of town and abandoned the van in a parking lot that appeared to be free of security cameras. On my suggestion, we found an old pickup truck. As Hiero hotwired the ignition, I searched the compartments for a cell phone or other handheld device that could track us. On the way out of town, we stopped at a large gas station where I bought a postcard with which I informed Dee of my wellbeing and intentions. Writing quickly—for Hiero and Mary were waiting for me in a stolen pickup—I mailed the post card with extra postage and returned with my friends to the highway, heading north.

Despite switching vehicles, my worry only continued to grow. I could see the same distress in the other two. "Are you guys nervous because of me, or are you simply worried too?"

Mary took a deep breath and sighed. "We feel it too. We won't rest until you're safe."

"We're less than a couple hours away," said Hiero before pointing to the rearview mirror. "And I haven't noticed anyone following us."

I gazed out of the passenger window into the sky. "They could be in the air."

Hiero gestured up with his index finger. "I haven't seen any airplanes."

"Drones," I said, continuing my search.

Mary looked up through the windscreen. "What are drones?"

"They are tiny pilotless airplanes that the government uses to track and kill people."

"Kill people?" Mary sat back. "How often do they kill people with these...drones?"

"None in America, according to them. But they kill people overseas all the time."

Hiero's eye began to shift between the road and sky. "Bombs?"

"Rockets," I replied. "Very accurate rockets."

Hiero's face hardened, appearing disgusted. "So this is how your country executes foreigners."

"And Americans, they blew up an American teenager at a public cafe. The government said it was an accident, claiming that they were targeting an Egyptian."

"What about the employees or other patrons at the cafe?" asked Mary. "Did any of them die?"

"Yes. Many of them were killed. The government calls them collateral damage. The government often performs something called a double tap strikes to make sure the target is dead. The second rocket often kills the innocent rescuers."

Hiero slammed on the brakes, bringing the old pickup to a hard stop on the side of the road. He exited the vehicle, slamming his door shut.

Mary and I scrambled from the passenger side to find him staring upward.

Within seconds, the agitated man pointed up at an empty section of sky. "There. Do you see it?"

With narrowing eyes, Mary focused on the location. "I think I see something."

Undoing his rope belt, Hiero walked along the edge of the road until he found a rock the size of a large grape. He then fumbled briefly with the rope, quickly revealing that it also functioned as a sling weapon. He placed the rock into a small leather holder and positioned himself into a firing stance. Focusing on something high in the sky—too far for me to see, his arm moved so quickly that the sling tore through the air like a whip, cracking loudly when it released the stone upward. A couple seconds later, I heard a faint pop high above. "Got it!" said Hiero with much exuberance.

I did not see the drone until the object neared the ground. With a soft thud, the vehicle crashed into harvested farmland yards from the road. I followed the others down into a shallow ditch through the wild grass and back up onto the open farmland to find the drone poised in a downward angle in the damp soil, the nose stuck deep in soft earth. Easily seen, opposing holes revealed that the stone had passed through the center fuselage.

Hiero kicked the drone onto its back to reveal a video camera. "I take it that this is a drone?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I don't see any rockets or weapons."

"This is a surveillance drone. These things come in all shapes and sizes, armed and unarmed. You shouldn't find any armed ones in the states."

Mary smeared mud from her shoes onto the camera's lens. "Why not?"

"They said that the weaponized ones are only to be used on foreigners."

Hiero huffed his displeasure through his nose. "And you believe them?"

I frowned. "Not really. Never did."

Mary looked upward. "Will there be more?"

I lifted my gaze. "I don't know.

Hiero began kicking violently at the machine, breaking off bits with each kick. When he stopped, a guttural sound slipped through his gritted teeth as he stood amongst the debris. "Cowards. In my day, if a man was sentenced to death, the executioner would have the decency to look the condemned man in the eye." Hiero gestured at the machine. "Executing people with this, it's...I don't know what it is."

The sound of a car on the highway made me turn. When I spotted a dilapidated car passing by, I sighed with relief. "We should get going. Now that you've taken down their drone, they may be coming for us."

Mary took hold of Hiero's arm and began pulling him towards the highway. "Fredrick is right. Besides, sundown is only a couple hours away."

When I entered the passenger side of the pickup, taking my spot beside Mary, Hiero stomped on the accelerated before I could close my door.

"Why haven't they moved in on us?" asked Hiero.

"You mean to arrest us?" I asked.

"Yea. What are they waiting for?" Hiero glanced up at the sky. "Why follow us with that flying contraption?"

I glanced up at the darkening eastern sky. "They are probably hoping to follow us back to some secret terrorist cell. Or if they believed me during my interrogation, they want to see how I snuck over the border into Canada."

Hiero cursed aloud. "We didn't rescue you from any secret prison; we only released you from your cell. Your country has become nothing more than a giant prison. Everyone might as well wear that ridiculous orange clothing."

Spotting familiar landmarks, I smiled nervously. "We're very close."

However, Mary did not share my sentiment, for she had focused on something in the rearview mirror. She turned to look out the back window of the pickup truck. "You were right about destroying the drone. We're now being followed."

I looked back to find a black speck on the distant highway. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. There is just one vehicle, and they are staying back."

Hiero glimpsed briefly into the rearview mirror. "They could be waiting for others before moving in."

I looked forward down the highway. "Or a roadblock."

Biting his lip, Hiero glared ahead in thought until he cursed in his ancient tongue.

Recognizing an upcoming county road, I gestured to the upcoming intersection. "Turn right. I know several ways into Tamarac forest. They cannot have people stationed on these back roads if they don't know our destination."

Hiero braked heavily as he made the turn. "Alright, skipper. You tell me when to turn. We may yet free you from this prison."