Fugitive

“Ladies,” Warden Pulliams said, “I’d like you to meet Frederick Clayton and…?”

“Charles Marsh, sir,” Charlie said when it was obvious that the warden had no idea who he was.

“Of course, Mr. Marsh. These women are librarians and I’m giving them a tour of our facility. Would you like to explain how important this library is to you?”

Charlie stood up but Freddy stayed seated.

“A well-stocked library is essential in a prison,” Charlie said. “As you may imagine, ladies, prisoners have a lot of idle time, and idle hands are the Devil’s workshop. This library enables us to put our idle time to good use.”

While Charlie’s bullshit answer was enchanting the warden, Freddy bent down and pulled a shiv out of his sock.

“I couldn’t have expressed it better, Mr. Marsh,” the warden said with a wide smile, which vanished instantly when Freddy yanked Jackie Schwartz away from the group and pressed the razor-sharp blade of his prison-made knife against her jugular vein.

“What are you doing?” Charlie yelled.

“I’m getting me the fuck out of here,” Freddy told his friend. Then he turned his attention to the warden.

“I’ll gut this bitch if you don’t do exactly what I say. Do you understand me, motherfucker?”

“Mr. Clayton…” the warden began.

“Shut the fuck up. I do the talking here. Anyone says a word and I start cutting. Now get the fuck over to the storeroom.”

Freddy nodded his head toward the far wall, where a door opened on a storage area that contained cleaning supplies, extra books, and odds and ends.

The guard started sliding his hand toward his nightstick.

“I saw that,” Freddy said, sliding his blade an inch to the right. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down the hostage’s throat. Mabel Brooks gasped.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, and you, drop the stick and start moving. Next time you move fu

The warden had read Clayton’s file several times and knew he would kill without remorse.

“Do as he says,” Pulliams ordered in a shaky voice as he started walking toward the storage room.

The other inmates who were using the library had heard the commotion and they wandered over as Freddy herded his hostages through the stacks.

“Get out,” Freddy commanded. “You don’t want to be in here.”

The men didn’t stop to think. Charlie started to follow them but Freddy stopped him.

“Not you, Charlie. I need you with me, bro.”

Charlie’s heart sank. He was just weeks away from parole. Now Freddy was making him an accomplice in crimes that could keep him behind bars forever.

As soon as the hostages were inside the storeroom, Freddy looked around. His eyes stopped on a large spool of cord.

“Tie them up, Charlie.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Nah, we got to tie them up so they won’t cause trouble.”

Freddy used the shiv to cut several lengths of rope. While Charlie was tying up the hostages, Freddy’s eyes roamed the room. When everyone but Jackie Schwartz was secure and seated on the floor, Freddy turned the quivering woman over to Charlie and inspected several cans of paint that were stored in a corner of the room. Next to the paint cans were several tins of paint thi

Freddy searched the warden and the guard but didn’t find what he was looking for. Then he collected the women’s handbags and searched through them. He smiled when he found a pack of cigarettes in Mabel Brooks’s bag and gri

“This is just what I need,” Freddy said. He walked over to the painting supplies and carried one of the tins of paint thi

“This here’s my insurance,” Freddy told Charlie. Then he turned to the hostages. “You all are go

Freddy flicked the lighter. Mabel Brooks stared at the tiny flame and started to weep, and Jackie Schwartz was white-faced from shock.

Freddy opened the tin and doused the woman. Then he moved to the next hostage. When he was done, Charlie pulled him aside and whispered so the hostages wouldn’t hear him.

“Freddy, this isn’t good. Maybe you should stop now. No one’s been hurt too badly. Maybe we can convince the warden to let bygones be bygones if you let everyone loose.”

“Warden ain’t go

“That’s what I thought. Nah, Charlie, we’re in this for the long haul. It’ll be freedom or death.”

“I got freedom coming up, Freddy. I’m go

“Can’t do it, bro. You know I ain’t good at expressing myself.”

“You talk fine. You’re a bright guy.”

“Not like you, Charlie. I wouldn’t know the words. I’m go

Charlie glanced over at the women. They were terrified. The guard was trying hard to stay cool, but Warden Pulliams was sweating badly. Charlie felt sorry for them. He also felt sorry for himself and pissed off at Freddy for getting him into this mess.

Charlie’s relationship with Freddy was complicated. They were best friends, but Charlie disapproved of almost everything Freddy did. If it weren’t for the bonds they’d forged since childhood, Charlie would have stayed miles from Clayton. Still, there was no denying that he would have been badly injured several times if Freddy hadn’t protected him, so he did owe Freddy for that. If Freddy released him to negotiate he could run, but that would probably mean that the hostages would die or a SWAT team would come in blazing and Freddy would die, and he didn’t want that on his conscience.

“Okay, bro. I’ll help you out here, but you have to promise me that you won’t hurt anyone.”

“Hey, if someone gets out of line, I’ll draw the line.”

“True enough, but I’ll have a hard time selling your program if I can’t assure the negotiators that all of the hostages are unharmed.”

“I see your point.”

“Great. So, what’s your plan?”

This was a difficult question for Freddy to answer, since he had acted on impulse without a strategy.

“Well, we tell the motherfuckers to let us out of here or we kill these motherfuckers.”

“Okay, that’s a start, but where do you want to go once you’re out?”

This was an even tougher question. Freddy hadn’t been too many places besides prison. Then he remembered a television show that had featured a hostage situation.

“A tropical island, man. I want to go to a tropical island. And I want a jet and one million…nah, make it two million dollars.”

Charlie nodded several times. “That sounds doable,” he lied.

A tentative knock on the storeroom door startled everyone.

“Get the fuck back, motherfucker, or I’ll start cutting on these bitches,” Freddy yelled.

“It’s me, Jack Collins,” the trustee librarian answered in a shaky voice. Collins was a seventy-year-old lifer who had been a fifty-two-year-old bookstore owner until he shot his brand-new, twenty-year-old wife and her lover. “They told me to talk to you, Freddy.”

“What do they want?” Freddy asked.

“They want you to let everyone go. They won’t hurt you if everyone’s okay.”

“You tell them I ain’t letting anyone out until my demands are met. If they don’t meet my demands, people are go

“What…what do you want?”

“My man, Charlie, knows our demands. Who’s out there with you?”

“Nobody. Just me.”

“You better be telling the truth or we’re go

“Don’t hurt anyone, Freddy. Okay? I’m the only one in the library.”