Escape by Don Taco
The warden led the march to the gas chamber, with the very stern demeanor of the self-important. A small squad of guards brought along the prisoner. There were no ceremonies, no formalities, no last songs, no farewells. Once inside the room, the man was forced to sit, and heavy leather straps buckled his ankles to the seat. After he was secured, the handcuffs were removed and his wrists were also strapped into place. The warden's second-in-command, a phlegmatic man drily recited to the condemned man, "They say the best way to avoid any pain is to hold your breath as long as you can when you see that light turn red, and then take a quick deep breath. That way, you get a lethal dose quickly, and you don't struggle. They say you barely even feel it." The man stared tersely at him and said nothing. After they all filed out of the chamber, there was an ominous electrical click from the door mechanism, and less than a minute later, the ready light turned green.
But by then, once he was alone, the condemned man was straining at the straps, tearing some of his flesh from his wrists as he ripped the leather free of the chair arms through sheer desperation. After rapidly unbuckling the leg straps, he stood and looked around. There was a huge pair of bolt cutters lying on the floor nearby, so he grabbed them. Some rational part of his brain wondered what they were doing there. There were no wires or cables to cut. And he couldnt remember seeing them before. Dashing over to the only door, he swung the heavy tool at the door's control panel with all his might. He was rewarded with a flurry of sparks, a loud pop, that ominous click. And then the door swung open. As he stepped out of the room, he realized that the small squad of guards was still there, eating donuts. They filled the hallway. There was no way to run past them. His elation turned to trepidation and his heart skipped. Some part of his hind-brain told him that his only chance was to leap over them, so he jumped. And it was then that he discovered that he could fly. Not the ungainly flapping of a large bird trying to launch from the ground, nor the graceful soaring of such birds in flight, but the inexplicable superman-like trait of pushing off from the ground and simply continuing to move forward through the air. He was landing clumsily at the end of the hall before the guards had even swung around. Grabbing the door handle and twisting it, he tore it completely free of the door, leaving no way to open it. He experienced a moment of pure panic. His heart thundered like a jackhammer. And then his brain, and his life, shut down, like flipping off a light switch.
In the control room, the warden turned to his assistant and remarked, "That was much more struggling than usual. I wonder what goes through their mind at a moment like that?" His aide uttered a low grunt of non-interest. "I have no idea," he said.
copyright 2025 by Don Taco
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