Exit Strategy

The city had donned its evening garb as I traversed its thoroughfares, searching for the quiet amid the cacophony.  May had turned out like those of years prior and, on that night, the sidewalks glistened from the ever-presence of rain that defined the season, seeming to cause distant building lights to twinkle akin to those reminiscent of holidays past.  The denizens of capitalism paid me no heed as they rushed to their cars or buses or trains, hoping to swiftly escape across the river, up the hills, or beyond the tunnel to the comforts of whatever each considered home. 

         I tugged on the hood of my jacket as if to protect my face from the downpour.  The gesture was purely mechanical; nothing escaped Oregon rain.  I rushed to cross Morrison Street, and the arriving Blue Line protested the feat.  I had no time to spare—I needed to get to the RiverPlace before six thirty—and neither a flashing red hand nor the approach of a fifty-ton train possessed influence significant enough to hinder me.

         My phone buzzed and I retrieved it from my back jeans pocket.  Suse texted an urgent request for a call and I'd texted back that I later would.  A knot in my stomach accompanied the thought that I may not be able to keep that promise.



“I want out,” I said, although it was difficult to ascertain whether the voice that spoke those words was indeed mine.  It sounded shaky, uncertain.  I tried to keep Ammon’s gaze, but its intensity had always made the task difficult, and I looked away. 

         “It’s not that simple, Janus,” he said, leaning forward for his drink.  He took a sip, savoring it briefly in his mouth, before swallowing.  He’d once tried to convince me of the pleasures of Scotch whisky but I never developed the taste for it.  I grabbed my bottle of Coors Light but only to feel the glass, as if the tactility helped me regain focus.

         “I know,” I said, “but it’s what I want.  Suse… she’s pregnant.”

         Ammon was unfazed.  “People like us don’t just get out,” he said, making air quotes to emphasize the last two words.

         I said nothing. 

         “You think the same thought never crossed my mind years ago?” he continued. “I have three kids.  What I do, I do for them.  They live a good life because of what I do—what we do.”

         A big part of me firmly believed in what he preached.  But, Suse had started to become weary of what I did for a living.  At first, I declared her a hypocrite.  After all, she, too, had enjoyed the perks.  When she became pregnant—an accident, she assured me—things changed.  She changed.

         The crowd in the lobby bar was more animated than I’d expected for a Tuesday night, but it was a welcomed distraction inasmuch as it had also been strategic.  “There has to be a way,” I said, lowering my head, “I need do this.  For Suse… for my child.”

         Ammon sighed, and downed his drink.  “You’d have to die,” he said, and I stiffened.  He raised his empty glass to the server, gesturing for a refill.  I looked up at Ammon, my trepidation betraying my resolve.  “I mean, we’d have to fake your death," he continued. "It’s the only way to escape the system, so to speak.”

         “So, others have—”

         “Not so fast,” he interrupted me.  “I didn’t say they were all successful.”

         “What do you mean?” I asked, the sense of relief I’d felt moments ago slowly dissipating.

         “Some who got out—” he said, pausing to allow the server to drop off his newly refreshed beverage.  “Let’s just say that the system caught up with them at some point.”

         “You mean…”

         He nodded.  “There’s no exit strategy, Janus. Not for us.”

         I stared at Ammon, the man responsible for my life.  I’m thankful to him for everything, to be sure.  He made me what I had become—among the elite—but now I’m stuck.  In that moment, all I could think of to do was to get behind him, clutch his head, and twist his neck.  Nothing good will happen from the deed, but I felt as if I’d relish it.  And, for the first time in years, I was disgusted with myself.

         “Understood,” I finally said.  My mouth had dried and I took a swig of my beer, which had been rendered tepid.

         He smiled, fiddled with his phone, and mine buzzed.  I didn’t have to look to know that he’d just texted me an assignment.  “We good?”

         I nodded, and flashed him a fake smile.  “Yeah,” I said. “Sorry to have bothered you.  I’m just, you know, nervous.  About Suse, the baby.  I can’t think straight.”

         “Trust me, I get it,” Ammon said. “And, we’ll forget about this unpleasant chat.”  With that he stood, dropped a fifty on the table, and put on his coat.  “Say hello to the wife for me, will ya?”

         “Will do,” I managed, getting up as well.  I watched as my mentor exited the hotel lobby and into his waiting car on the driveway.  After a few beats, I walked out of the hotel, onto the marina, and into the rain.



The Willamette River raged in concert with the deluge, and I took a moment to appreciate its power.  Suse and I could just run away, I thought.  That could work.  I will make that work.  I had reached for my phone when I felt a sudden sharp pinch on my chest.  I looked down to see a small hole on the left breast of my jacket, and blood had started to trickle out.  I had let my guard down, didn’t notice I had a tail, and I’d been shot. 

         I turned around hoping to see my assassin's eyes but the world blurred and spun, and I fell backwards.  The rain pelted my face as my final thoughts were filled with Suse’s face, and that of Ammon’s. 

         He found a way out for me after all.





Writtten for "The Writer's Cramp" 

Prompt:  Write a story or poem about a character named Janus who must make a new beginning for herself/himself/itself. Your character has three options to choose from, but only one may be chosen.

Word Count: 1000