was still on, one of the many blessings that came with escaping from prison in a state where no one had to worry about pipes freezing. He took a long drink from the faucet and washed his face. It felt so good and made him want more. He could shower and even rinse out the clothes he’d stolen from the homeless guy who was passed out behind Theo’s bar last night. He removed the coat, unbuttoned the shirt, and stripped down to the waist. His skin itched. The more he scratched, the more it itched.
He checked himself in the mirror over the sink. His chest was covered with welts. He grabbed the shirt and took a closer look. It was infested.
“Bugs!”
His scalp suddenly itched. He rubbed his head frantically with both hands.Tiny insects dropped from his hair and landed as little black dots on the white sink.
A string of hysterical and mostly nonsensical curse words followed, as he quickly kicked off his prison-issue Velcro shoes and ripped off the stolen pants. The socks and underwear were also from TGK, but they too were infested. He pitched all of it into the bathtub, turned on the showerhead, and jumped in. Hot water 52
James Grippando
would have been nice, but that was asking way too much in a vacant house.The cold was more soothing to his insect bites anyway.
He rubbed, swatted, and scratched all through his shower, sending one nasty little black bug after another down the gurgling drain.
Then he started on the shirt, but it was so threadbare that even mild rubbing risked tearing it to shreds.The pants were more durable, but once they were wet, they smelled like a sewer.
The Grove Lord needed new clothes.
He turned off the shower. Dripping wet and wearing only his prison briefs, he set out to search the house in hopes that something had been left behind. He tried the linen closet in the hall.
Empty. He checked the two smaller bedrooms. Nothing. The garage was accessible from the kitchen, but in there he found only a few basic supplies that the maid or the realtor needed to keep the house presentable for potential buyers. He was walking through the living room to the master bedroom when, through the bay window in the front of the house, he spotted an old man and his dog on the sidewalk. Isaac hit the deck.
He wasn’t sure if the old man had noticed him or not. The owners had taken the draperies along with the furniture, leaving a clear view into the living room for passersby on the street. Instinct told him not to move a muscle, but Isaac couldn’t stop himself from raising up his head just enough to peer over the windowsill.
The old man was still standing on the sidewalk. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything. His dog, however, was on high alert.The miniature white poodle was barking and bouncing up and down like a Ping-Pong ball, as if to shout, “Run for your life—there’s a black man in the house!”
Isaac had to move. On his belly, keeping low, he slithered across the living room floor to the hallway, sprang to his feet, ran to the bathroom, and grabbed his clothes. Soaking wet, bugs or no bugs, they were all he had. He had to get dressed. But then what?
Think, Isaac.Think!
LAST CALL
53
He could still hear that annoying bark. Soon enough, the old man had to realize that his dog wasn’t crazy and that something was amiss.
Maybe he was the friendly neighbor who’d promised to keep an eye on the house for the owners. Another minute of that high-energy yelping, and he’d probably march straight home and dial 911.
Not good.This was not good at all.
Isaac squeezed the excess water out of his underwear and checked one more time for bugs. Clean. The poodle continued to bark, louder and more aggressively. Isaac had to move fast, but a successful escape was not merely about speed. Once the cops with their dogs and helicopters were hot on his trail, it wouldn’t matter if he was an Olympic sprinter. Hiding was the key to his success, and hiding took the courage to do whatever was necessary to keep some
He checked himself in the mirror over the sink. His chest was covered with welts. He grabbed the shirt and took a closer look. It was infested.
“Bugs!”
His scalp suddenly itched. He rubbed his head frantically with both hands.Tiny insects dropped from his hair and landed as little black dots on the white sink.
A string of hysterical and mostly nonsensical curse words followed, as he quickly kicked off his prison-issue Velcro shoes and ripped off the stolen pants. The socks and underwear were also from TGK, but they too were infested. He pitched all of it into the bathtub, turned on the showerhead, and jumped in. Hot water 52
James Grippando
would have been nice, but that was asking way too much in a vacant house.The cold was more soothing to his insect bites anyway.
He rubbed, swatted, and scratched all through his shower, sending one nasty little black bug after another down the gurgling drain.
Then he started on the shirt, but it was so threadbare that even mild rubbing risked tearing it to shreds.The pants were more durable, but once they were wet, they smelled like a sewer.
The Grove Lord needed new clothes.
He turned off the shower. Dripping wet and wearing only his prison briefs, he set out to search the house in hopes that something had been left behind. He tried the linen closet in the hall.
Empty. He checked the two smaller bedrooms. Nothing. The garage was accessible from the kitchen, but in there he found only a few basic supplies that the maid or the realtor needed to keep the house presentable for potential buyers. He was walking through the living room to the master bedroom when, through the bay window in the front of the house, he spotted an old man and his dog on the sidewalk. Isaac hit the deck.
He wasn’t sure if the old man had noticed him or not. The owners had taken the draperies along with the furniture, leaving a clear view into the living room for passersby on the street. Instinct told him not to move a muscle, but Isaac couldn’t stop himself from raising up his head just enough to peer over the windowsill.
The old man was still standing on the sidewalk. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything. His dog, however, was on high alert.The miniature white poodle was barking and bouncing up and down like a Ping-Pong ball, as if to shout, “Run for your life—there’s a black man in the house!”
Isaac had to move. On his belly, keeping low, he slithered across the living room floor to the hallway, sprang to his feet, ran to the bathroom, and grabbed his clothes. Soaking wet, bugs or no bugs, they were all he had. He had to get dressed. But then what?
Think, Isaac.Think!
LAST CALL
53
He could still hear that annoying bark. Soon enough, the old man had to realize that his dog wasn’t crazy and that something was amiss.
Maybe he was the friendly neighbor who’d promised to keep an eye on the house for the owners. Another minute of that high-energy yelping, and he’d probably march straight home and dial 911.
Not good.This was not good at all.
Isaac squeezed the excess water out of his underwear and checked one more time for bugs. Clean. The poodle continued to bark, louder and more aggressively. Isaac had to move fast, but a successful escape was not merely about speed. Once the cops with their dogs and helicopters were hot on his trail, it wouldn’t matter if he was an Olympic sprinter. Hiding was the key to his success, and hiding took the courage to do whatever was necessary to keep some
Similar Books
