When You Die

Prologue

9:58 PM, Cealcstán Castle, Yorkshire, England, February 21, 2007

Nicholas McCarthy knew he had been trapped in his cell for fifty-eight days. He also knew that his life was almost over. He could just feel it. He could feel it by the endless pain in his stomach. He could feel it when the ceiling of his cell shook. He could feel it when the love of his life and their baby had been captured.

He was famished. Over the past eight weeks, he had only been given  a crust of bread a day, a small cup of water every other, and a half an orange every week. After being hopelessly trapped with nothing to do, he devised a plan.

The next time he was given water, he kept the cup hidden under his one scratchy blanket, and when the guard came to collect it, he claimed to him that he had lost it. Being ah- not very bright himself, the guard just shrugged and left, empty- handed. Although the guards themselves were quite dim-witted, their employer was not. There was only one set of keys to the cells, as they hung around Death's neck, you would be a fool to try to cross with him.

Since that way of escape was a certain death trap, Nicholas McCarthy had another idea of an escape maneuver. The building in which he was imprisoned was quite medieval. In fact- it was built in medieval times. It was a large castle surrounded by an empty space that had once been filled with a moat, but had apparently been dried up for years, as there were tall trees growing all around the castle.

The walls of the prison cells were made out of limestone, and therefore would dissolve in contact with acid. Mr McCarthy was very resourceful, and his plan was to squeeze most of the juice of the orange into the cup that he had saved, which had a small amount of water still in it, and then he would eat the rest of the orange, then wait until the next week. Then he would repeat this step each week, adding juice every time.

After eight weeks of this, on the night of February 21, 2007, Nicholas McCarthy was going to break out of his prison cell.

He set to work. The cell was bare except the tin cup full of mostly orange juice, his filthy clothes, a spindly mattress and a scratchy blanket the guards had provided him, and a doll made out of blue and silver silk that his wife had made for his baby daughter before she was born. It was the only tie he had had in the weeks he had been separated from them.

The only things he was bringing with him was the blanket, as it was February, and the doll. He put the doll in one of his large pockets, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He had to work quickly in case someone were to check on him in the spur of the moment.

This was the moment he had been looking forward to for weeks. This had to work. Since they had been captured, his wife had been doing the same thing in the cell she shared with the baby. Since they were too weak to just bust open the wall (and it would make too much noise), they had to improvise.

At the sound the clock striking ten on the nearby cathedral clock, they would both pour the contents of their cups onto the limestone wall, and hope to God that it will dissolve. Then they would meet up at the base of the hill on the west side of the castle, and hide out in the cathedral for the rest of the night, then at sunrise they would let the nearby ravine take them as far away as possible.

Just as he finished reviewing this plan in his head one last time, Nicholas McCarthy heard the first stroke of the clock. His heart started pounding. This is it. He thought. This is it. Then he poured the liquid on the wall.

It worked. The wall dissolved surprisingly fast. Just as he was celebrating internally, he heard footsteps. He checked his pocket to double-check that the doll was still there, and started running.