Agent Alfred Campbell shoved people aside as he ran through the crowds of Beijing, desperately trying to catch Alcatraz Escapee Clarence Anglin.
Clarence was just ahead, running surprisingly fast for an 88-year-old man. He weaved through the giant flood of people, trying as hard as he could to avoid being captured again.
Just as he was tiring, he spotted a vacant cab just a few feet away from him. He stuck out his arm and was about to call it just as Alfred handcuffed him.
“You’re under arrest for escaping prison and evading police,” Alfred announced.
Clarence felt miserable on the plane ride home. Before Frank Morris died in 2008, all Clarence thought of was running away. After that, though, Clarence just wanted to have his name cleared and live a life of freedom. Days later, Clarence was sitting in his jail cell, contemplating his life.
He grasped his hands around the cold metal bars of his cell. He had been considering escaping, but every plan was essentially a suicide mission that was sure to get him killed. The thought of being locked up forever died as the guards called all of the prisoners to the craft room.
Clarence got to work sewing a phony guard uniform. He worked on it every day during craft time. His plan was falling into place. After everything was prepared, the night of the escape had come. Clarence awaited the guards’ night check eagerly. At exactly twelve o’ clock, the guards came along and checked to make sure that no one had dared to escape. The guard who inspected Clarence’s cell was old, slightly younger than Clarence. Clarence sat in the dark on his bed, holding the crowbar that was to be used to eliminate the guard.
As the guard approached the cell, Clarence stood up and struck the guard on the head. He toppled to the floor as Clarence took the rusty old keys and unlocked his cell. He then put the guard on his bed so that the other guards would think he was still sleeping.
Clarence, wearing his fake guard uniform, went down to the jail’s transportation station. He unlocked a car and began speeding away, chuckling at his success.
* * *
“WHAT?!?” yelled Warden Harrison Edwards when he saw one of his guards, dead, lying in Clarence Anglin’s cell
“You mean he escaped AGAIN?” he asked his assistant. “The man’s a THOUSAND years old! He can’t do this forever! Where could he go?”
“One of our cars departed last night. We tracked it to the No Vacancy Motel in San Diego.”
“Why would any criminal go to that garbage hole? Oh well. Send all the guards we have over there!”
* * *
A group of cars with sirens blaring closed in on an old, dilapidated motel. The car’s tracking device had led them to the motel. But there were no guard cars in the parking lot. As they moved in closer, they found the tracking device on an orange truck, with a man sitting inside rocking out to heavy metal. “Clarence must have planted the tracking device on this truck!” one of the guards said as they reported back to the fuming warden.
* * *
Derek Moore watched the news from his hotel in China. He was shocked to learn that Clarence had escaped again. Derek decided that Clarence couldn’t be contained anywhere. No matter where they put him, he would escape. But he couldn’t stand it. He had been having nightmares about Clarence. A dangerous fugitive, out on the run, and he remembered him from the worst years of his life.
So, breaking Agent Campbell’s orders, he caught a plane back to America with the goal to capture Clarence himself.
To Be Continued…
By: Brig Larson
Photo Credits: videoblocks.com