Chapter 9:
The Plan

I weighed my options.

I couldn’t go back down the river or to the House of Forbidden Aloha, because they would be looking for me there. They’d also be checking the Shakespeare Amphitheatre — that’s where I went to set off my fireworks, because they sounded louder there.

One option was to somehow make it back to town and go on a violent bank-robbery spree, like Bonnie and Clyde. But if my car got shot to pieces, and it was a rental car, would the rental-car insurance cover it? It was too risky.

I could go back to prison and turn myself in. Maybe I could get my old job back as a fake prison guard.

The plan I finally came up with was a simple one: I would head cross-country to the sea, the Sea of Aloha. Once I reached the coast I would get a surfer to paddle me out to a jet ski. Then I would get the jet-ski guy to take me out to a fishing boat. Then I would get the fishing boat to take me out to an ocean liner. I would motion for the liner to stop and take me aboard. If it didn’t stop, I would throw a grappling hook and pull myself up. Oh, yeah, at the beach, there had to be a grappling-hook store.

I guess it wasn’t such a simple plan after all.

– Click for Last Week’s Chapter –

Chapter 8:

I knew that the warden would probably send Ishimura to capture me. Ishimura was the most famous of all the trackers and bounty hunters. He could track anybody anywhere. It was said that if he found a broken twig he could tell when someone had passed by, which direction he was going, and how much change he had in his pocket. He could tell if an ant was acting strangely, indicating the fugitive was hiding nearby. A footprint made him laugh, because it made things so easy.

Ishimura also had a flare for the dramatic. Once he hauled a big dead shark into the prison. “What’s this?” said the warden. “I paid you to bring back an escapee.” Ishimura cut open the shark, and out plopped the partially-digested fugitive. Everyone applauded, even the family of the fugitive.

The helicopter swept back and forth. Sure enough, it was an Ishimura copter. I could tell from the slogan painted on the side: “You No Get Away.” But it wasn’t Ishimura in the cockpit — it was his assistant! What the hell?

I ducked down. But I didn’t duck down as much as I would have if it had been Ishimura himself.

I had to come up with a plan. And I did. And the plan was this: I would keep thinking until I came up with a plan.