Head over Heels

Sometimes everything, everything, is turned upside down. In dreamlike state they say anything is possible. Anything.

What must remain, as persistence, is the pumping. Adrenaline fuels dream to reality. No matter how you rotate the mystery, the rhythm must be there, consistent. Till the end.

That's the way it was, terrifying, culminating with the escape. The plan was simple. Two days in for petty theft. Maturation of the stock, and collection on release. Starter debt paid from the yield. Simple. Just a little foot work.

For now, the pace, the pacing of 6x8', meaning 48 square, or 384' cubic space. A mere 48 hours short-breath, a little break, in this safe room. Because they'll be looking everywhere. Almost, every where.

It was grotesquely simple. The silicone was what made it possible, the security, waterproofing, heat insulating, acid buffering. All the vital data on the micro-SD was safely enclosed in the vacuum tight silicone casing. Swallowed right before the handcuffing. And now the wait.

Of course, there was a partner on the outside. Two halves palpitating, in separate chambers. That is the heart of the matter, whether, the flow of time and integrity, would continue with each passing compression.

What was worth more, keeping or letting go, that is answer.

I passed the tan silicone casing at the 47th hour. Scrubbed it with the antibac from the dispenser at the sink to the right of the open toilet while pretending to brush my teeth.

Don't drop now, don't drop, don't drop out. I kept the tiny square compressed between ring and pinky fingers, having feigned arthritis since booking. The plan was to put it between my toes on reaccessing my shoes.

So far so good.

I have my civilian clothes. I have this livid vision of the pig head from the Lord of the Flies. I've dreamt about release for days, even before the heist and every time, it's skewered pig head chasing me. Some twisted symbolism of thumbing the snout of the po po.

Maybe.

Now I'm out, sun glaring and the parking lot is empty. Empty. And it shouldn't be. Don't run. Don't run. Don't. We're free and clear. Free and clear. This was the new start. But there's nobody here. My own footsteps crunching gravel. Free and clear. Nobody on the horizon. I can hear my heart pumping, my pacing quickening. Then a motor is revving. It's coming. From behind.

It's coming to get me. I'm running. You said, whatever you do, don't run. Don't let them see you running. No way of out speeding a fierce Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut, turbocharged 1,600 horsepower. No idea where in blue blazes the steel came from, and I'm feeling blindsided multidimensionally.

Somebody found out, or somebody squealed.

The last thing flashing before me is pain, the empty parking pavement yellow streaked, and those stupid Air Jordan's treadmilling the partly cloudy sky, while I'm squeezing the little memory disk, like my life depends on it.

And then, blackness.

11.17.2023

FFF#6: FootChase @ChrisSadhill