CONSIGNMENT
BY ALLAN E. NOURSE
ILLUSTRATED BY SUSSMAN
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science FictionAdventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncoverany evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. ]
The three shots ripped through the close night air of the prison,sharply, unbelievably. Three guards crumpled like puppets in the deadsilence that followed. The thought flashed through Krenner's mind,incredibly, that possibly no one had heard.
He hurled the rope with all his might up the towering rock wall, waiteda long eternity as the slim strong line swished through the darkness,and heard the dull "clank" as the hook took hold at the top. Like a cathe started up, frantically, scrambling, and climbing, the sharp heat ofthe rope searing his fingers. Suddenly daylight was around him, thebright unearthly glare of arc lights, the siren cutting in with itsfierce scream. The shouts of alarm were far below him as he fought upthe line, knot after knot, the carefully prepared knots. Twenty secondsto climb, he thought, just twenty seconds—
Rifle shots rang out below, the shells smashing into the concrete aroundhim. Krenner almost turned and snarled at the little circle of men inthe glaring light below, but turning meant precious seconds. A dull,painful blow struck his foot, as his hands grasped the jagged glass atthe top of the wall.
In a moment of triumph he crouched at the top and laughed at the littlemen and the blazing guns below; on the other side lay the blackness ofthe river. He turned and plunged into the blackness, his footthrobbing, down swiftly until the cool wetness of the river closedabout him, soothing his pain, bathing his mind in the terrible beauty offreedom, and what went with freedom. A few dozen powerful strokes wouldcarry him across and down the river, three miles below the prisonfortress from which he had broken. Across the hill from that, somewhere,he'd find Sherman and a wide open road to freedom—
Free! Twenty-seven years of walls and work, bitterness and hateful,growing, simmering revenge. Twenty-seven years for a fast-moving worldto leave him behind, far behind. He'd have to be careful about that. Hewouldn't know about things. Twenty-seven years from his life, to killhis ambition, to take his woman, to disgrace him in the eyes of society.But the candle had burned through. He was free, with time, free, easy,patient time, to find Markson, search him out, kill him at last.
Hours passed it seemed, in the cold, moving water. Krenner struggled tostay alert; loss of control now would be sure death. A few shots hadfollowed him from the wall behind, hopeless shots, hopeless littlespears of light cutting across the water, searching for him, a tiny dotin the blackness. Radar could never spot him, for he wore no metal, andthe sound of his movements in the water were covered by the sighing windand the splashing of water against the prison walls.
Finally, after ages of pain and coldness, he dragged himself out ontothe muddy shore, close to the calculated spot. He sat on the edge andpanted, his foot swollen and throbbing. He wanted to scream in pain, butscreams would bring farmers and dogs and questions. That would not do,unti