ben rogers had been held captive in bill wilson’s basement for thirty-three years.
but ben never lost hope, and kept waiting for bill to let his guard down and give him a chance to escape.
finally, one night, ben got his opportunity.
bill came down into the basement to bring bob his evening meal. usually he was careful not to get too close to ben, who was, of course, chained to the wall.
but tonight. as he leaned down to put ben’s tray on the floor, a piece of stiff paper - a postcard?- fell out of his shirt pocket and floated through the air toward ben’s feet.
after a moment’s hesitation , bill leaned forward to retrieve the postcard…
and that was all ben needed. in a flash he wrapped and smashed his chains around bill’s head and neck, knocking him cold.
ben quickly got bill’s keys out of his pocket and freed himself.
he wondered if he should take the time to strangle bill or otherwise kill him, but decided against it.
all he wanted was to get away - as quickly as possible!
ben stumbled up the basement steps. although he had always tried to keep in shape by doing sit ups and other exercises in his chains, his legs were still somewhat uncoordinated.
he found himself in bill’s kitchen. again, he was tempted to stop and find some food - some food other than the powdered doughnuts and pepsi cola that bill had been feeding hm for thirty-three years.
no, he thought, better to just put some distance between himself and the house, before bill could rouse himself.
when he got outside the house, it was dark , and kind of chilly - winter must be coming.
the cold fresh air almost overpowered him. relax, he told himself, don’t take such deep breaths…
he had bill’s keys in his hand. but there was no car parked in bill’s driveway or directly in front of the house!
there were several cars parked a little ways up and down the street. might one of them be bill’s?
he couldn’t take a chance trying the keys on them. somebody might be watching from any on the windows on the street.
it might be just as well. he had not driven in thirty-three years. he thought he still could, but who knew? and maybe some or all the traffic rules had changed.
ben started to walk. a wind picked up, and he now was really cold. he realized he was not wearing a jacket, or shoes.
could he take a chance on asking somebody for help? anybody he asked might be a pal of bill’s. bill was a police officer, and a stranger might be one of his fellow police officers.
better to just keep walking. into the night…
maybe he could steal a bicycle, or a motorcycle…
if he could get to the highway, he could start to hitchhike. that was it… hitchhike.
but did anybody hitchhike any more?
after the first shock of being free began to wear off, the first thing ben noticed was how ordinary everything looked.
had not everything changed in thirty-three years? hadn’t anything changed?
but it all looked the same… the same houses, the same lawns, the same occasional trees bending over the sidewalks …
the same lights in the windows from the tv’s. well, maybe the lights were a little bigger and brighter…
yes, that was it. the televisions were bigger and brighter.
time had gone by. he had not just dreamed the whole thing…
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