An Unlocked Door and an Empty Walkway
The guard clutched his uniform jacket, gasped for air, and dropped flat onto the wet asphalt. His service belt rattled against the ground as his head hit the puddle.
Dante stopped in his tracks, turning his head toward the fallen officer. Rain dripped down the inmate’s nose and chin as he stood over the motionless body.
Dante bent his knees and reached down with his cuffed wrists. He slid two fingers into the officer’s pocket, fished out the brass ring of keys, and twisted the tumbler on his metal cuffs until they snapped open.
He stood up and pulled his arms apart. The gray inner perimeter gate stood unlocked only thirty paces ahead of him.
Dante pumped his elbows and ran hard toward the opening. Water kicked up from his black boots in heavy sprays as he closed the distance to the outer fence line.
The Memory in the Corridor
He crossed through the inner gate, grabbed the cold wire mesh, and slowed down. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts as he stared at the foggy tree line outside.
His fingers loosened from the steel wire. An image from two hours earlier cut into his thoughts.
In the concrete holding corridor, the same guard had handed him an unopened bottle of water. Dante had wiped sweat from his eyebrows while the officer rested a hand on a supply crate.
“Take a minute,” the guard had told him. “Catch your breath.”
Dante had slumped onto a metal bench, staring at the floor tiles. The guard stepped in close, looking directly into his face. “Whatever you have done, Dante, you are still a human being.”
Dante blinked through the rain on the perimeter path. He turned his boots around and sprinted back the way he had come.
Kneeling in the Mud
Dante slid onto his knees beside the officer’s still form. He unclipped the handheld radio from the officer’s chest strap and keyed the side button.
“Officer down,” Dante barked into the microphone. “We need medical help right now!”
He set the radio on the wet pavement. He laced his fingers together, positioned his palms over the center of the officer’s sternum, and drove his body weight down into steady compressions.
Heavy bootfalls splashed behind him. Three patrol guards rounded the security wall with tasers drawn, their shouts cutting through the downpour.
“Step away from him!” the lead guard yelled, raising an open palm. “Where are your cuffs?”
Dante kept his hands raised high in the air as he stood up slowly. Water soaked straight through his orange jumpsuit.
“He collapsed,” Dante said, his voice flat and controlled. “I took the cuffs off to do chest compressions. Get your medics over here now.”
The lead officer glanced at the unconscious man on the ground, then lifted his radio. Within two minutes, paramedics pushed a rolling gurney through the yard gates, strapped the officer down, and wheeled him away under the watchtower lights.
A Visit in the Infirmary
Hours later, Dante sat on the edge of his metal bunk, staring down at the concrete cell floor. His hair had dried stiff, and his elbows rested on his knees.
Keys clinked against the iron bars outside. A female guard stopped at the doorway holding a clipboard.
Dante stood up and walked to the bars. “Is he okay?”
“He is awake,” she answered softly, resting her hand on the lock. “And he asked to see you.”
Dante walked through the clinic door moments later and stepped beside the low hospital bed. The officer lay back against the white pillows, his color returning beneath the fluorescent lights.
“You came back for me?” the guard whispered, turning his head slightly on the pillow.
“Yeah,” Dante replied, leaning one hand against the side rail.
“Why? You could have escaped.”
“You helped me when you did not have to,” Dante said. “So I figured it was my turn.”
The guard pulled the corner of his mouth upward into a faint grin, resting his forearm flat on the bedsheet as Dante smiled back.
Send this to someone who believes that decency is never wasted.
