Page 9 of Factory Thief

“Enough. Grab my waist and hang on.”

I start to put my own mouthpiece in, but quickly remove it.

“And if you take advantage of this situation, I’ll shoot off your balls. The Factory doesn’t need those.”

“The Factory?” He shakes his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The Factory is the nickname of the Foundation for an Active, Optimized and Rich Youth,” I explain. Now is not the moment to explain how we shortened the name of this venerable institution to make it sound like what it is, aFavorfactory.

“Isn’t that a school for gifted children?”

“Close enough.” I put my mouthpiece in and glare until he follows suit. Then I grip the handlebars and he grabs my waist.

We plunge beneath the surface. I wait until we’re a good ten feet below the waves before turning on my lights. There’s still a chance someone will see, but it would be suicide to try and navigate the tricky coastline in the dark.

Silver-scaled fish dart away from our path, glittering in the brief slashes of light. Jack wraps his arms around me and holds on for dear life. Jesus, he’s ripped. No endurance to speak of, but he’s plenty strong.

I shove those distracting thoughts away and concentrate on our flight. We’re almost home free.

We reach a place on the coastline about a mile away from the prison before I dare to surface. As we splash out of the water, leaving the Jet Ski behind—it’s served its purpose—we’re blinded by a sudden flood of bright light.

A vehicle parked on the beach has caught us in its high beams. If it’s a prison official or a cop, we’re screwed.

JACK

How many times had I dreamed of escaping? Acquittal? One of my myriad appeals actually being heard by a judge?

How many times did I lay on my stone cot and yearn for freedom? No, not simply yearn. Lust. I lusted for freedom, to feel the wind on my face, sand under my feet, plunge into the crawling, wrinkled sea.

None of the fantasies I entertained featured a crazy ninja-woman with a loaded pistol stuck in my ribs. Yet, that’s exactly where I find myself.

We stand in the bright, blinding lights cast by the high beams of what seems to be a large truck. I don’t know, it’s hard to tell when I can’t really see. The woman at my side keeps her gun thrust into my ribcage, hard enough to bruise.

“Just keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” she hisses.

“It’s the guards, you’re going to have to surrender. It’s over.”

“Nothing is over. Just let me do all the talking.”

The tense moments pass, and I wonder if they’ll even try to arrest us. I wouldn’t be the first prisoner shot trying to escape from Sandpiper Cove.

The doors open, and I stiffen up. This is it. The woman is pushing the gun into my ribcage so hard I would cry out if I weren’t so terrified.

As much as this woman frightens and confuses me, God help me, I’d rather die right here than go back to prison.

Two figures emerge from the truck, impossible to see clearly for the bright headlights. One of them steps in front of the high beams—

And plops down a cooler. More people pile out of the truck, wearing…beach gear.

We’ve stumbled onto a beach party!

“False alarm.” The woman next to me relaxes. I still haven’t had a chance to get a good look at her yet, and her face is covered with a hood. “Listen, Jack, we’re going to walk up the beach to the parking lot. If you fuck with me, I’ll put a hole in the back of your head. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

For the time being, I figure the best thing I can do is play along. Sooner or later I might get a chance to make a break for it, but now is not that time.

The woman reaches up and pulls her sodden hood free. My mouth gapes open at the sight of her glistening, soft looking skin, her full red lips. Long hair of an indeterminate color plasters to her head by dampness. Looking at her eyebrows, I think she’s a redhead, but I can’t be sure.

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