Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
Entering the empty cell block corridor, I subtly turn my head in both directions to see if anyone is coming in behind me. After closing the door, I wait a few seconds for the sound of echoing footsteps to pass by.
When the sound of the footsteps fade, I walk towards the old prison lockers that we currently use to keep our food supply in.
My part in our plan is to stockpile the necessities.
Carl and I both volunteered to be on watch duty for the next week and a half. We even sleep in the west guard tower now, so nobody will come looking for us when we're not in our cells at night.
I remove my drawstring bag from my back and pull it open. I grab two sticks of deodorant, some toothbrushes, one bottle of toothpaste, and a hairbrush.
Because Carl and I have been stockpiling the food for a few days, we're pretty set on what little we can carry with us. And the last things we need are the things I'm supposed to gather in the next few days.
My eyes land on a box of chocolate chip granola bars. I stick my hand in the box and take out a fistful of them, shoving them in my bag. I close the box and put it back in its original position in the locker so no one notices.
Part of myself feels bad that I'm taking supplies from a group that's grown to trust me. The other part is afraid someone will see me taking them and will assume that I've been playing them all along, like the prisoner they think I am.
I quietly close the locker and swing my bag over my shoulder. Sucking in a deep breath, I grab the handle and prepare myself to walk outside and pretend like I'm not carrying stolen goods.
The courtyard remains relatively calm as the kids are at storytime with Carol, and the adults' work shifts are almost all over.
"Hey Megan," I hear a voice say. I turn around to see Karen."Would you like some dinner?" She asks me, offering me an unlabeled tin can and bag of beef jerky in her hand.
"Sure," I smile to the woman and take the items from her hand. "Thanks."
"No problem." The woman smiles to me as she turns back to her work post at the pavilion.
Another part of our plan to stockpile, has been to take a good amount of our meals and stockpile them too. With a huff, I twist my pack around and shove the food inside, on top of all of the other contraband.
I successfully cross the courtyard and enter the gate to the field. Approaching the guard tower I've recently taken residence in, I see the silhouette of the boy and his sheriff's hat sitting on the top, with his feet dangling off below the railing.
