ShadowBorne

I did not for a moment look back at the cell.

I had memorized everything already. The cracks in the wall, the way the paint peeled near the sink, even the spot on the floor where the light never quite reached. Looking back would have been a waste of time, and time was the only thing I did not have.

The corridor was quiet, but not empty. There was always sound in a place like this. A cough echoed from somewhere down the hall, a boot struck concrete below and the low hum of electricity moved through old wires.

As I walked, I counted my steps without moving my lips. Twelve to the corner, pause, then seven more. The door was in view, and the systems barely caught it. The uniform fit the way it was supposed to—too loose in the shoulders, the sleeves stiff with overuse. I had worn it long enough to know how to move in it without drawing attention. My head stayed slightly lowered, not enough to look guilty but I didn’t look too confident either. There was a balance to these things.

At the corner, I paused.  I didn't exactly need to but stopping was expected. A guard passed from the opposite direction, nodding once without really looking at me. His attention was already elsewhere, focused on the next thing waiting to demand it. That was how places like this worked. With a mission like mine, you learned to rely on distraction. You learned that no one truly saw you unless you forced them to.

As soon as he passed, I turned and continued walking. My heart rate was steady. Out of habit, I pressed two fingers to my wrist while pretending to stretch. It was slower than most people’s heartbeats would read but it was expected as I had trained myself for that. Panic wasted oxygen and adrenaline made mistakes feel reasonable. Control mattered here.

The door at the end of the corridor led to a service stairwell that rarely saw traffic at this hour. It had been that way for years. According to the intel I gathered, budget cuts had changed routes, schedules, and staffing. No one had bothered to update the paperwork because nothing bad had happened. Yet.

I pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.

The stairwell smelled of dust and old water stains marked the concrete walls. I moved down, that detail mattered. People ran up when they were afraid but I walked down. It looked like I belonged there.

Another door waited below. This one was heavier. The hinge made a sound if pulled too quickly, so I leaned into it slow and steady until the latch released.

And finally, I stepped outside.

The air felt off. The yard lights were still on, casting long shadows across the gravel. I stayed close to the wall, keeping my movements ordinary. There was a camera near the southeast corner and I knew its blind spot better than I knew my own reflection.

I passed through it without looking up and moved towards the fence. It had two layers. Barbed wire at the top and motion sensors along the base. The sensors were old, lagging by a fraction of a second if you moved just right. That knowledge had cost me six months of trial and error and one night in solitary.

I moved when the wind picked up.The wire bit into my palms causing me pain but I ignored it. Pain was information, nothing more. On the other side, my shoes finally hit dirt that did not belong to the prison.

That was when it felt real. I felt a certain kind of awareness. I walked another hundred yards before allowing myself to change direction. Trees swallowed the light quickly, and the sounds shifted from the distant prison noise to crickets and rustling leaves.

The road was close, I could hear it if I focused.

I increased my pace, but I did not run. Running drew attention, and I hadn’t come this far just to get caught. I walked until my breathing matched my steps, then walked some more and as I turned around the bend, my eyes fell on my ultimate escape plan. 

The car was where it was supposed to be. Old and temperamental. No one remembered it five minutes after passing. I opened the door, got in, and sat still with my hands on the wheel.

Finally, the weight of everything pressed in. I had practiced this too many times. I had even been caught a few times. They moved my cell, labeled me as dangerous and placed me under strict surveillance but none of it had stopped me.

I wasn’t built for prison. And not even the highest level of surveillance could hold me.

I started the engine and pulled onto the road just as the first siren cut through the night behind me. It sounded urgent and distant. But most importantly, late. I drove for twenty minutes before turning off the headlights and a few minutes later, I pulled over at a familiar spot. I changed clothes quickly, placed the uniform in a shallow pit I had dug with the shovel in the trunk, and set it on fire.

The smell lingered, but the smoke stayed low. By the time I finished, the sky was beginning to lighten up. I sat with my back against a tree and waited. 

Waiting was something I was good at.

I turned on the radio and to my surprise, my name came up sooner than I expected.

"This is an urgent bulletin. Escapee on the loose: Elias Cross, thirty-four, serving a life sentence for..."

I pressed the dial, adjusted the volume and stayed put as I let every word sink in.

"He is dangerous, calculated, and considered armed and extremely violent. Citizens are advised to stay alert..."

I let the broadcast finish and their words rolled over me like a tidal wave. 

“You don't know me,” I muttered under my breath, almost conversationally, 

“You really should have done your homework.”