Sunflower fields (version 2)

Sunflower fields

The field was aglow, a possible escape route, he wasn’t too sure. It sure was looking better than the other option of the highway which was far too open and obvious. But he had no idea what lay beyond the field. He only knew that he had to make a decision. Now. No really, literally, right now.

Field or highway? field or highway? FIELD OR HIGHWAY? Argh, go now.

Field.

It wasn’t just any field. It was a sunflower field. Beautiful, but certainly not the time to admire its elegance. He had to go now. Seriously, now!

He sprinted into the opening of the field. His suit already torn and dusty. He tried to think rationally. “I never knew sunflowers were this big”.

Rationally.

“Forward, I need to move forward now”.

Better.

“Oh my God I’ve done it, I’ve done it, I’ve done it, they’re going to kill me”.

C’mon! Rationally!

He ran towards the first row of sunflowers. They were a lot taller and a lot stronger than he ever imagined. Although, when does one ever wonder what it would be like to sprint through a field of gladiator like sunflowers, bare foot and dressed in a suit which fitted ten years ago?

He stopped three rows into the field. Looked up to the purple dusky sky and breathed in.

Freedom.

“Ahhhcccchooooooo”. And pollen.

Go!

The funny thing was, there was no-one behind him. There hadn’t been for hours now but there was still a huge sense of urgency.

It had come as much as a surprise to him, as it had to the dumb-struck prison guards. He certainly wasn’t considered a ‘flight-risk’ since he only had a week left on his sentence.

Idiot.

It was hardly Shawshank redemption, it was actually quite easy, had to be in his case really.

A catalogue of errors from the prison guards and one thing lead to another and before he knew it he had gotten out, narrowly dodged three bullets despite not actually purposefully dodging, outsmarted three guards, despite not thinking, and outran countless police officers, despite getting lost and doubling back on himself several times.

There was no plan. Never had been. He hadn’t been plotting an escape, he had no outside contacts, apart from his elderly mother 600 miles away.

He sprinted through the sunflower field, the thick stems partially snapping and spitting their sweet sap up the back of his thighs. His feet were beginning to hurt now, the dry soil now felt like hot coals under foot.

The field was a yellow and green maze. He had no idea where to go.

Not a clue.

Just as he thought he had made some progress, he realised that up ahead the sunflowers down trodden and broken, a bit like he felt at the minute. “How have I turned back on myself when I’ve been running in a straight line?”

Again.

He thought back to the escape. He was in the right place at the right time. It hadn’t been designed for him, he didn’t think it through. If he’d just thought about it for a few seconds, he was leaving anyway next week, as a free man, served his time. Instead he was now on the run, he was always going to be looking over his shoulder.

What a stupid decision. One of the worst. Although not the worst.

His trial, ten years ago, was going very well. He was on the verge of escaping with a very small sentence. Towards the end of the trial he had decided to address the victim’s family and apologise. He thought he’d been doing ‘the right thing’.

Wrong.

He had in fact given a fully-fledged confession. His lawyer looked on horrified, wishing he could stuff the moronic words back into his equally idiotic mouth.

Certainly not his proudest moment.

Dusk had now turned to dark, this was getting ridiculous. He continued to walk in what he thought was a straight line.

He was still in the depths of the yellow-green labyrinth when he felt something different to the hard pebble like soil. It felt smooth and soothing. He looked down where he could just about see the top of what appeared to be a wooden box, carefully placed between the rows of sunflowers.

He looked around. Bent down to unearth the box, then quickly stood again checking over both shoulders as the cool night breeze brought goosebumps to the surface of his skin. He was alone. The tall sunflowers peering down on him as though they were the ones guarding this mysterious box.

He managed to prise open the top of the box and he was all but disappointed with its contents. A small sketchy looking map with directions to a log cabin, a pipe and a key. Not the millions of dollars he was hoping for. He looked again at the map. He decided to try and follow it as best as he could. On the back of the map, it had written instructions which didn’t make sense to him, but it did state it should take no longer than one hour to reach the log cabin.

Seven hours later he found it.

Tired and aching, he walked towards the front door, he reached into his suit pocket and lifted out the key.

Click.

The door opened. Again, disappointment washed over him. There was very little here. Sure, there were ample food supplies, a TV, bed and clothes. But it certainly wasn’t as he imagined spending the rest of his life.

He peeled off his suit and shirt and lay down on the bed. Everything smelt old and musty. It was clear to most that the cabin had been unlived in and unloved for some time. He had no idea who its intended occupier should be, but it certainly wasn’t him.

Sleep overpowered him very suddenly and he was consumed into a peaceful darkness.

On awakening, he decided to look for more clues as to whom this place belonged to. It wasn’t long before he made his shocking discovery. It was indeed intended for a prison escapee, a real one. The cabin was meant to be home to a notorious prison villain. He hadn’t met the man, but had certainly been made fully aware of his reputation. He shrugged and continued to look around the log cabin, unconcerned and his head filled with little thought.

Months went by. He had all but adapted to his new, but equally simple life. He had established his own routine and was existing almost care free. The new life was now a consequence of yet another mistake, but he had to make do.

Until today.

He was sat watching TV as he always did between 10am and 12:15pm. That’s when the newsflash appeared.

Breaking news.

A notorious prison villain, the log cabin’s real owner had broken free on what was being described as his second attempt. Police had been deployed all over the state and people were being advised to keep their distance and not approach this dangerous monster.

Fear.

Dry mouth and sweaty palms.

For the second time since his escape, he had to go, now!

He grabbed what he could and threw it into his bag.

Panic, panic, panic.

Then. Creek.

He was ready for this moment, he’d been playing it over in his mind for the last few months. It had come much sooner than expected but never mind, he was ready.

The front door swung open. Stood there an angry red-faced, pollen stained man with the remains of what appeared to be sunflower petals on his boots. His face changed from anger to terror in an instant. He reached behind his back, feeling the coolness of the metal handcuffs with his left hand. His right hand slowly reached for his gun.

But it was too late.

Gone.