One Way Ticket: Escape
George Prescott heaved an audible sigh of relief as he leaned back into the plush interior of the passenger train, the constant stream of people gradually filing in creating a steady hum of background noise that soothed his jangled nerves.
That was close, he thought wiping the sweat beading his brow with a napkin, too close.
The attendant right outside the platform had carefully scrutinized George’s ID, glancing back and forth between his face and the plastic card before finally letting him board the train. Those had been the longest seconds in George’s life. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone he passed knew him for what he was: a murderer.
Anyone who might have had an inkling of what he sought to leave behind him—and George had been careful to leave no loose ends—would have attributed his nervous demeanor to guilt, but not George. Fear of being captured before he could make good on his escape plan, yes, but never guilt. He had done what he had to secure his future, and the others had been well aware of the danger their little “enterprise” presented. They should have taken proper precautions, he told himself. They should have known better than to walk around unarmed, and most importantly, they should have known that while you may keep your enemies close, it was your friends that you had to watch out for. They had learned this last lesson the hard way.
The train was nearly full and just a handful of passengers milled around trying to stuff their bags into the overhead bins. From where he sat, George had an unobstructed view of the entire car and the doorway dividing the dining car from the passenger seating areas. If the cops showed up at any point in the journey to haul him away, he planned to go down fighting. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that just because he had made it this far, that it meant that he was in the clear—the issue of how to cross the California border into Mexico was still at hand.
He touched the heavy weight of the gun in his front vest pocket and felt pleased with himself and his “little insurance policy.”
He had easily charmed the young female security guard into thinking that he was simply a nice, elderly gentleman on his way to see his grandchildren in California, and she had waved him on through without even a backwards glance. She couldn’t have known that she was sending out a wolf amongst the sheep.
He grinned. Yes, everything was coming together nicely.
As George sat there feeling smug, a young woman carrying a baby took the seat in front of him and began to fuss over her child. The baby turned and stared at him with wide, innocent blue eyes and the corners of its tiny mouth crinkled up in a sort of smile. He smiled back and waved, which caused the infant to giggle. The mother turned around and apologized for disturbing him, but George reassured her that it wasn’t a problem. As he settled back against the upholstery he couldn’t help but marvel at his luck.
The mother and her baby would make suitable hostages if things came down to that. One way or another, this trip was going off without a hitch, and he was never going to look back on what he was leaving behind, not even with regret.
