Chapter 53: The Great Escape: I
The old man’s body lay stretched out on the narrow prison bed, wrapped in rough canvas like a discarded piece of furniture. The pale moonlight streaming through the barred window made everything look ghostly and unreal. Edmond stared at his friend’s corpse, the only person who had kept him sane during these hellish years of imprisonment.
’I’m alone again.’
The thought hit him like a physical blow. No more late-night conversations through the tunnel they’d dug between their cells. No more shared dreams of freedom. No more hope.
Edmond slumped onto the edge of the bed, his mind spiraling into darkness. Maybe death wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe his friend had found peace while he was still trapped in this nightmare.
"What if I just..." he whispered to himself, "what if I attacked the next guard who walked in? They’d execute me for sure, but at least it would be over."
But the moment passed. Something deep inside him rebelled against the idea of dying like a common criminal.
’No. Not like this.’
He stood up suddenly, pacing the tiny cell like a caged animal. Years of suffering, years of planning revenge on the people who’d destroyed his life, he couldn’t throw it all away now. Not when he was so close to something. But what? What could he possibly do from inside this concrete tomb?
Then it hit him.
The idea was so crazy, so desperate, that it had to work. His friend’s body was being taken out tonight, the guards had already arranged for disposal. And there was only one way dead bodies left this fortress.
’They think only the dead can leave this place? Fine. I’ll be dead.’
Moving fast before he could change his mind, Edmond opened the canvas shroud with the makeshift knife his friend had crafted years ago. The body was cold and stiff, but he forced himself to lift it, carrying it through the tunnel to his own cell. He laid the corpse on his bed, covering it with his blanket and positioning it so it looked like he was sleeping, something he did often enough that the guards wouldn’t think twice.
Back in his friend’s cell, Edmond stripped off his prison clothes. He found the needle and thread they’d hidden for emergencies and climbed inside the body bag. The canvas was rough against his skin as he carefully sewed himself inside, leaving just enough space to breathe.
His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was sure the guards would hear it. This was insane. If they discovered him now, it was game over. But if he waited until tomorrow, they might change their minds about removing the body, and he’d lose his only chance.
The plan was simple, if completely mental. If the workers carrying him realized he was alive, he’d cut his way out of the bag and run. He had the knife ready. If they actually buried him, he’d dig his way out after dark, the soil couldn’t be that heavy, right? And if he suffocated trying... well, at least his suffering would be over.
Seven o’clock came and went. The guard brought his usual dinner, set it down without a word, and left. Edmond had done this routine so many times, pretending to sleep, ignoring the world, that the man didn’t even look twice.
Hours crawled by. Every sound made Edmond’s pulse spike. Finally, he heard footsteps on the stone stairs outside. Multiple sets. This was it.
The door creaked open, and dim torchlight filtered through the canvas. Two men approached the bed while a third waited by the door.
"Damn, he’s heavier than he looks," one of them grunted, grabbing the head end of the bag.
"Dead weight always is," the other replied, taking the feet. "Plus, I heard old bones get denser every year."
"Did you tie the rope?"
"What’s the point? I’ll do it when we get there. Why carry extra weight up all those stairs?"
’What rope?’ Edmond wondered, but there was no time to think about it.
They hoisted him onto some kind of stretcher. Edmond forced his body to stay completely limp, playing dead with everything he had. The group moved up the stairs, and suddenly cold night air hit his face through the canvas. The wind was fierce, a storm was coming.
They walked for what felt like forever, then stopped abruptly. One of the men wandered off, his footsteps echoing on stone.
"This guy weighs a ton," the remaining carrier complained, sitting down on the stretcher’s edge.
"Hand me that torch," the other called from somewhere nearby. "Can’t see a damn thing out here."
Edmond heard metal scraping against stone, then footsteps returning. Something heavy was set down right next to him, and suddenly rough rope was being tied around his ankles, tight enough to cut off circulation.
"That should do it," the man said with satisfaction.
They picked up the stretcher again and kept walking. The sound of waves crashing against rocks grew louder and louder. Where the hell were they taking him?
"Nasty night for a swim," one of them joked.
"Yeah, the old priest’s about to get real wet," the other laughed.
Edmond’s blood turned to ice. They weren’t talking about burial at all.
"Here we go," one announced. "Little bit further... remember what happened to the last guy? Washed up on the rocks because we didn’t throw him far enough. Boss was pissed."
They climbed a few more steps, then Edmond felt himself being lifted by his head and feet. They started swinging him back and forth like a pendulum.
"One!"
’Oh god, they’re going to throw me into the ocean.’
"Two!"
The rope around his ankles suddenly made horrible sense. It wasn’t just rope, it was attached to something heavy. A weight to drag him down.
"Three!"
Edmond flew through the air, the world spinning around him as he plummeted toward the dark water below. The fall seemed to last forever, his stomach dropping as he realized with crystal clarity that he was about to die.
He hit the water with a bone-jarring impact that drove all the air from his lungs. Ice-cold seawater rushed over him as he sank like a stone, dragged down by whatever iron weight they’d chained to his feet.
The fortress used the ocean as its graveyard. And now Edmond was joining all the other prisoners who had "died" in their cells, their bodies disposed of in the most final way possible.
But he was still alive. For now.
The real fight for survival was just beginning.