His knees pressed down hard into the sand, the guard’s foot on his back keeping him firmly in a bowing position. He could hear the sound of a whetstone being drawn over a blade somewhere nearby. The sweat trickled down his face, dripping from him like a light summer rain, the salt mingling with the discoloured sand below.
The sound of the whetstone stopped. The sand shifted as the executioner began walking towards him. Someone was saying something but he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart thrashing around his chest like a caged alley cat, all teeth and claws and frantic yowls.
The light shifted.
And the world imploded.
Screams and curses sounded all around him as the various smokes bombs thrown into the arena went off, filling everything within the immediate surroundings with a dense white smog.
The guard pining him down was suddenly shoved away and an indistinct silhouette grabbed is arm.
“Run.” It shouted.
He ran, stumbling awkwardly, his balance thrown with is arms tied behind his back. The figure kept pushing and pulling at him, dragging him through the ever more chaotic crowd, the light fractured and the people no more than shadows screaming. At one point he could have sworn the smoke was humming.
“Under here.” His saviour said, “Quick, quick.” It shoved him through a gap in the fence, barely wide enough for a child let alone a full grown man.
“Hurry, hurry.” It said, kicking his arse behind him.
He somehow pushed himself through and took deep gulping breaths of the smokeless outside air.
‘This way, this way.”
They ran towards the river, a boat pulled up to the dock and waiting for them.
His bonds were finally cut.
“How on earth did you distract them long enough to throw the bombs?” He asked his wife.
She grinned at him, her eyes bright against her filthy skin.
“Bees.” She said.
“Bees?” he asked, incredulous.
She nodded. “I threw a whole hive of them I collected into the crowd. Nothing more distracting a whole load of pissed off bees.”
“Who stages a prison break out using bees?”
“Your head is still attached to your body, yet I am really not feeling the gratitude here.” She said, pouting. “If you want I am happy to send you back.”
“No, no,” he said hastily, “I am very, very, very grateful. Viva bees!”
“Humph.” She said, then changed her mind and smiled. “Well, I am somewhat glad you’re not dead so I guess I’ll let you off this time.”
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