The Prisoner
by Gary Christenson
I’ve hated Gilbert Bates since he evicted my family when I was eight.
***
Daddy shook his fist at the Sheriff and his deputies. “But we made the mortgage payment. You can’t evict us.”
My mother’s face turned pale, and tears flowed. “George, leave it alone. Please! They’ll hurt you.” She shouted, “Emily, come here!”
I ran to my mother while Daddy retreated from the police. Hiding behind her, I spied Bates staring from a shiny black car in front of our house. The police officers took orders from him. I hated him.
After our eviction, we lived in our car, on the street, in homeless shelters, and in a tent. Daddy worked when he could. Two years later, he got sick. Mom sobbed as she told me, “An angel took him to heaven.” She died a few months later. Bates destroyed our family and ruined our lives. I swore I would make him pay, and I’d never be poor.
***
“Emily, you up for this?” Howie scanned me from facemask to sneakers. He’s my techie-hacker, one of the best.
“You bet!” I checked my black bodysuit, triple-hooks, and gear. I’m taking that asshole down.
“Babe, you’re the best cat-burglar in the business.” Howie gave me a thumbs up. “We go live in eleven minutes.”
For years, I bounced from one abusive foster home to another. Later, I served a long apprenticeship under a master thief. Now, I have my crew. I’ve been in and out of homes, offices, and a dozen mansions during the past ten years, thanks to my training, athletic body, and mental focus. You’ll never hear or see me coming, and I’ll disappear with jewels, cash, and documents in minutes.
“You scale the wall at zero hour. I’ll fake video feeds to the guardhouse. You’ve got twenty minutes to reach the second story, crack the safe, and fade into the night.” Howie’s voice softened. “I’ll hack the laser alarms and motion detectors. If you don’t show in thirty minutes, I’m outta here. Be careful.”
I scanned the Bates compound and hated the despicable Mr. Gilbert Bates. I’ve waited for years to take him down.
Howie checked his computer. “T minus 12 seconds.” Moments later, he whispered, “Zero hour. Hit it.”
With minimal moonlight, and wearing face paint, I was invisible. Emerging from the shadows, I ran toward the compound, scaled the ten-foot barrier, and sprinted toward Bates’ house. The mansion’s rough stone wall provided handholds and foot supports. I reached the second story in a minute.
The targeted window was unlocked, as expected. Inside, I sprayed canned smoke to prove the laser alarm beams were inactive. I trusted Howie had hacked the motion detectors. Our inside source claimed a painting of Gilbert Bates concealed his safe.
Tiptoeing toward it, I used a tiny flashlight to avoid bumping furniture. The painting showed a younger Bates, the arrogant jerk outside our house when he evicted my family decades ago. I hate you. Minutes later, I cracked the combination, extracted a handful of jewelry, five kilo bars of gold, a thick stack of hundreds, and shoved the loot into my backpack. Hidden underneath the cash were pictures of Bates engaged in unspeakable acts with young girls. I replaced the pictures but couldn’t unsee his sick perversions. Closing the safe, I turned and took three steps toward my escape window.
That’s when the wheels came off. Lights flashed and stunned me. Two uniformed guards, snarling German Shepherds, rushed in the room on my left. Two other guards hurried into the room from the other side. The dogs growled and bared long, yellow teeth. I froze.
A guard pointed a Glock and shouted, “Drop to the floor! Do it now!”
I’m trained in combat and can kill an unarmed man, but not four armed men. Besides, vicious guard dogs scare the crap out of me. I dropped to the floor. A moment later, a guard handcuffed my wrists behind my back.
Wheels off, crashed, and burning. Prison or death ahead. I’m screwed.
Two huge guards lifted me by the elbows and dragged my body into a grimy basement. Helpless, my heart raced. The aroma of mildew joined the stink of my fear-tainted perspiration.
Ropes, with attached handcuffs, dangled from the ceiling in a musty room. The guards locked my hands and left me hanging. Rats scurried in dark corners while I dry-heaved.
Later, the door opened. A voice that sent shivers up my spine announced, “I’m pleased you joined our little party. I have questions for you which you should answer. Otherwise, I will inflict tremendous pain. Your choice. Answers or pain?” Two guards stood beside him.
I stared at Gilbert Bates. Don’t let the bastard see your fear. “Ask away.”
He smiled, a cat playing with a wounded mouse. “Did you expect to steal from me and evade consequences?”
“Of course.”
“Did you know we alarmed the safe with a pressure switch?” He smirked at me.
“No.”
“Do you realize a conviction for grand larceny could lock you in the slammer for ten years?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand we can kill you, and no one will know?”
“I do.”
“Which do you choose, prison or death?”
This man is evil. “Neither.” My stomach fluttered, knowing the answer might antagonize Bates, an obvious psychopath. I don’t like physical pain.
His face lost expression. Seconds later, he said, “You might be useful. I know you and your history. Hatred and greed motivate you.” My stomach burned. Breathing was painful.
He snapped at me. “New plan. I won’t report your crime to the police. Instead, I own your ass for the ten years you’d spend in jail. You do as I say, steal from those I sanction, and come running when I call. Or I kill you now. Choose!”
Some choice! Work for the evil psychopath or die young and in pain. “Your wish is my command.” My shoulders slumped. I kissed my former life goodbye.
“Agreed.” He spoke to a guard. “Bring Mazie and the chip gun.” A minute later, the guard returned with an old grey dog on a leash. “Chip her in the butt.”
The guard stuck the gun against her hindquarters and pulled the trigger. Mazie quivered and then lay on the floor. Bates turned to me and said, “The chip contains a neurotoxin and GPS tracker.” He removed a device from his pocket and said, “I input her chip I.D. and push this button. The chip releases poison and Mazie chases rabbits in doggy-heaven.” He smirked at me and punched the button. Mazie jumped to her feet, spasmed, and collapsed. “She’s dead. You see what happens if you disobey?”
I gasped as Mazie died.
He said, “Yank her pants down. Chip her in the right buttock.”
My pants bunched around my ankles. A moment later, an oversized hornet stung my butt. “The chip’s life expectancy is seven to ten years. It’s almost impossible to remove without releasing toxin. If you don’t obey, I punch a button, and the neurotoxin kills you anywhere in the country. After ten years, you’re released, but you won’t survive that long. Understand?”
I shuddered. This bastard is so evil. “Yes.”
His voice hardened. “One more detail. You stole from me, and for that, I will punish you. Get the branding iron.” A guard returned with a red-hot iron. “Brand her left butt cheek.”
I screamed and passed out.
Hours later, a nurse and two guards entered the basement and lifted my limp body onto a stretcher. The nurse treated the burn. Two weeks later, I could sit in a chair. In the bathroom mirror, I peaked at the scar. It read “Bates, Ltd.”
***
During the next year, I worked for Bates, probed his businesses and homes for security weaknesses, stole from his competitors, and obeyed his orders, including his kinky demands. I hated every minute of my servitude, but I never gave up my desire to free myself.
One night, I experienced a flash of insight. “Holy crap! My hatred drew me to Bates, almost killed me, and forced me to become his slave. Hatred created my personal prison.” I vowed to release myself from this self-created jail.
Weeks later, Gilbert Bates flew to Epstein Island in the Caribbean. While he indulged his sick addictions, I paid a disgraced surgeon to remove the chip from my buttock. The toxin release almost killed me. I disappeared soon thereafter.
A month later, Bates gave a speech on the front steps of his new building. Security guards patrolled the crowd and stood beside him. I watched his performance through a high-powered scope.
Sunshine brightened a beautiful spring day. Calm and centered, I had moved beyond anger and hatred. I could have killed the evil psychopath. Instead, I smiled and enjoyed my freedom. In contrast, his vile addictions had transformed him into a prisoner locked inside his sick world.