|The Sands of Freedom (standard:drama, 6287 words)|
|Author: Rick||Added: Jan 01 2004||Views/Reads: 2326/1439||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Jim is an ex-con who had developed a clever financial contingency scheme prior to his arrest. Execution of the scheme is put into jeopardy, however, when he meets the young and beautiful Megan, and a powerful attraction develops.|
Jim stared silently at the peeling gray cement walls of the visitor's lounge. After his final exit interview with the warden, he had been escorted here to wait for his release. An armed guard came into the room, gave him a brief glance and walked over to the locked door. “Okay, Jim, your time has come,” the guard said as he unlocked the door. He waved him over and Jim got up from his seat. At nearly seven feet tall, the former professional basketball player towered over the guard. “You're really gonna let me go, George?” Jim said jokingly. “Not my decision, but you know my opinion,” said the guard. “Hey, maybe I'll drop you a line, Georgie boy. But then again, maybe not,” said Jim in a sarcastic tone. “With any luck, I'll never hear from you again, Jim.” “Thanks for your encouragement. So long, George.” Jim passed through the door into the bright Tuesday morning sunshine. He walked across a wide empty paved courtyard to the outer gate of the federal prison in the tiny town of Bridgehampton, Massachusetts, a few miles east of the New York state line. Another guard, who was apparently well-aware of Jim's departure, slid open the tall barbed-wire topped metal gate. “Greyhound stops here at ten o'clock. Have a nice life,” yelled the guard. “Thanks,” Jim replied as he walked past without looking at him. The guard closed the gate behind him and returned to his shack. Jim stood there for a moment and glanced in both directions down the highway. He took a big breath of fresh air and sat down on the bench to wait for the bus. Eight years. It seemed more like twenty, but Jim couldn't complain too much given the extensive list of drug trafficking charges he was hauled in for. He could have been put away for life given the quantities of cocaine and marijuana he had been flying in from Mexico each week. His lawyer had done a decent job for him, convincing the jury that Jim should be let off a little more lightly since he was not directly responsible for any of the deaths of several Coast Guard personnel which had initiated the FBI investigation of the drug ring. Jim had indeed worked with many shady South American characters during his smuggling days. However, he had smartly avoided anything beyond supplying and flying the plane. He had carried a pistol, but only for personal protection; there was always someone else responsible for overall shipment security. When the plane made an emergency landing on a dry Texas prairie, it were these security goons who carried out the nasty gunpoint negotiations with the Feds; they also ended up pulling the trigger when the situation became desperate. In fact, Jim himself had become a human shield, a fact which his lawyer also used to gain sympathy from the jury. Fortunately, Jim had developed clever contingency scheme: he had hid a large stash of his earnings in several remote spots on Cape Cod. However, he now only had the fifty dollars wired from his lawyer. His plane had been seized by the Feds and most of his remaining possessions had been turned over to his wife during the divorce which took place a year after he was locked up. Other than his lawyer, no one visited him in prison. Now he was free, but also broke and alone. The eight years in jail had given him plenty of time to review his demise. Adulthood had started out with such promise. With his high intelligence, he easily made the Dean's list throughout college and had been a star of the basketball team as well. This led to a professional basketball career which had provided him with the money to indulge in expensive toys such as the Lear jet. Recreational drugs were a common accompaniment to the nouveau riche pro athlete crowd he had been a part of. When his ball playing days ended, the drug habit persisted. He supported his habit and made a decent profit as well using his plane, but had inevitably gotten in trouble for it. Through the arrest and Click here to read the rest of this story (620 more lines)
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