Jones on the Run
by Zafarali Ahmed
Thomas Jones was on the run. Just moments before, he had escaped from his kidnappers. The desert air was cold. The wind was blowing against his face. His eyes twitched. Just a little farther. Then I’ll be free.
His escape was a gift from god. A random coincidence when there was no hope left in his body. His captors had fallen asleep- after he skillfully made mixed Melatonin in the tea he prepared. At the camp, where he was being held for almost a year now, Melatonin was everywhere. They used it to put him to sleep. One day he just took the medicine and kept in the back of his mouth. He pretended to fall asleep and kept the drug for future use. He did this often. They used to make him do odd jobs around the camp. Clean the tents. Make tea. They loved tea. Two times a day without fail, sometimes more.
His quick thinking had put everyone to sleep. It was a rewarding day. Some celebrations had made everyone go bonkers. The tea was perfect timing.
The camp was near Rabat. The capital of The Kingdom of Morocco. He knew this because of the many times the kidnappers had spoken of it. Often when talking about getting food and other necessities for the camp.
He could see the lights over head. Almost there. Then the city came into view. Then it all flashed by. Eight months ago.
