PLAN B
Except for the ringing of the bells on the patio, the silence of the Maximum Security Prison was broken only three times each day: at seven in the morning when Jailer turned a key in my cell’s lock and waved me out for my morning exercise; at noon, when the noise of silverware announced lunchtime; and finally at dusk, when I returned to my cell to sleep. At that time, I’d hear the last sound of the day: the key closing the heavy metal door. Aside from these moments, the Maximum Security Prison was as still as a tomb, endless as eternity.
As usual, Jailer spent twenty-four hours a day with his radio glued to his ear listening to City news. In his own way, he cheered for good news and suffered over unpleasant circumstances. The pendulum of his emotions swung back and forth from one extreme to another, but nothing upset him. He let no emotion whatsoever show.
From the first day of my imprisonment, I’d been worrying that CC would lose the game against our rivals. It hurt just to think that the Loner’s trophy could end up in the hands of our enemies, especially after such a dirty maneuver to keep me out of the game. I was drowning in pessimism, with negative thoughts gnawing at me when I heard rapid footsteps.
It was Champion.
He’d come in search of a quick solution to a serious problem. His expression was completely innocent.
“Good afternoon, Jailer,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Champion. It’s an immense honor to greet you on this luminous festive afternoon. What motives led you to navigate these seas and anchor at this port? Any storms brewing?
To compensate his silent life, jailer took advantage of any opportune moment such as this to exercise his tongue, working out carefully worded phrases to the rhythm of harmoniously combined sounds. His weakness was exalted diction and convoluted syntax.
“I came to chat a bit,” Champion said.
“I’m honored, but undeserving of such a generous gesture, my honorable friend, especially on this memorable day when you are the epicenter of the entire City’s attentions. Nevertheless, I deem it more advantageous at this particular moment for you to be with the CC team offering the wise and discerning words of psychological support of which they must be in dire need, and to be perfecting the technical strategies that will insure our success. Therefore, as time quickly sifts through the hourglass, I remind you, dear sport, that only one half hour remains.”
“And that is why I am here.”
For the first time in his life, Champion was at a loss for words. Walking on thin ice, he needed to employ sensitivity and diplomacy so that Plan B would not fail.
He approached the topic, bringing up the loyalty of the population to CC. He alluded to Jailer’s personal commitment to the CSC. And then he gave up on words and hit the nail on the head.
“I’m here to ask you to free Calunga.”
Jailer choked in surprise. He started coughing and couldn’t get a word out of his mouth. He was stunned that such a questionable request came out of the mouth of the City’s moral role model.
With his eyes practically bursting out of their sockets, he sputtered ‘NOOOOO!” still wheezing.
Champion could understand the old man’s dismay.
He was well aware that Jailer felt completely responsible for the security of the Maximum Security Prison, which made it even more awkward for the aging athlete to insist. Yet, he also knew that in the future, the population would not reproach his action, but would laud his audacity for protecting the reputation of the City. Champion rationalized that he was only forced to use Plan B because the Judge himself had not taken the initiative to free me along with all of those birds. He believed that to teach their rivals a lesson, they needed to pull the rug out from under the overconfident feet of those conniving bastards.
“In conclusion,” Champion explained,
“Calunga has already paid for his aggressive reaction to being insulted, which we now realize was an intentional plan to keep him off the field today.”
Along with other arguments, he concluded.
“So, all you need to do is lend me the prisoner until the end of the game.
I’ll bring him back as soon as the match is over.”
Jailer was ready to turn me over, but a final doubt held him back.
“And what happens if the honorable Judge finds out?”
“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Champion assured him.
In no way did Jailer want to jeopardize the team or Champion. He was truly and honestly concerned.
“As everyone knows,” Champion continued, “Judge doesn’t even like soccer. The greatest proof is that even though the population gave him the greatest honor in cutting the ribbon at CSC’s opening ceremony, he has no idea that Calunga is a soccer player, much less that he’s CC’s star.”
“After pondering your argument and considering your final remarks, I have decided to acquiesce. Yet, with all due respect for your perfectly functioning memory, I must still remind you that the prisoner must be escorted back to this institution to complete his sentence as soon as the referee blows the whistle, ending the game.”
Champion listened with his mouth hanging slightly open.
As always, he was amazed by Jailer’s strange manner of speaking.
“One more thing,” Champion added.
“If necessary, I’m ready to assume complete responsibility for this act.
If anyone is to be tried, I’ll be ready to face Judge.”
“That would never happen,” Jailer exclaimed. Therefore, realizing that today we celebrate your birth, I hereby have the immeasurable pleasure of offering in homage, on my word of honor, your freedom of responsibility in my decision to lend my detainee to CC for the duration of the game. Accepting this responsibility is the least I can do. It is a small gift for such a great man.”
At this point, alerted to the passage of time by the ringing bells, their conversation ended.
It was time to act.
In just seconds, Jailer was by my cell. With his hair sticking out every which way, he looked so much like a ghost, that he startled me. I noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing his headphones. He spoke.
“Calunga,” he said, Champion is here. He came to get you, so that you could play for CC in the inauguration game of the CSC I agreed to let you out on one condition.”
“Which condition?” I asked.
That you return to this Maximum Security Prison immediately after the game ends.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he changed the tone of his voice, and continued to speak with great authority.
“Do you hereby promise that you will not attempt to escape?
“I do.”
“Do you promise upon the end of the game to return to this institution to complete your sentence?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise this and that and whatever and wherefore?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise...”
“I do.
“Do you promise...”
“ I do.”
“...?”
“I do.”
“...? “
“I do.”
“Then get on with it. Go.”
Champion put his enormous right arm around my shoulder and pushed me to walk fast. In fact, it was almost game time.
“Move it” “he yelled.
“I practically had to run to keep up with Champion, our loping giant.
No comments:
Post a Comment