Jail Bird

By Rachel Dib

Every year it’s the same. On the twentieth day of January, I’m hustled into a room full of my captors—some of which are my size but with no basic manners—and forced to perform. Sure, I’m given some capelin as payment during these exercises, but the treat is poor compensation for the humiliation I suffer.

What’s worse, I can’t even complain about the treatment to my fellow inmates. As I’m forced to hop around the room, a jailer imparts sad facts concerning my species’ condition outside of our prison’s walls. Since my degradation is praised under the guise of raising awareness for my kind, I’m to consider the shameful tasks a necessary evil.

“It’s just something we must endure to keep these cushy accommodations,” Baerty says whenever I protest. “We don’t want to end up like the penguins in Antarctica, do we? Their ice is melting, Deego. They’ve got nowhere to sit! Plus, they’re hunted by predators. No. We’re much better off here. Deal with the humans’ little dance for the good of the colony.”

And because Baerty is the biggest and strongest of us, everyone else just agrees with what he says. Though, who made him emperor over us hostages is beyond me. I don’t ever see him lowering himself for the “good of the colony.” What happened to leading by example?

Well, no more. I’m tired of being the colony’s laughingstock. I’m leaving. There must be a place besides the melting Antarctic to roost, and I’m going to find it!

The problem is, I need to escape before tomorrow; otherwise, I’ll have to perform yet again for Penguin Awareness Day.

I’ll have one shot at freedom. When my jailer arrives for our evening meal, there’s a ten-second interval in which she props open the door and is busy gathering her supplies. I need to sneak out during that window—something I’ve already tried twice with a fifty percent success rate.

I already know I need to hide on the back side of the door rather than at the front. Otherwise, the prison warden sees me as soon as she enters and scoots me aside. Next, I need to sidle out the door while her back is turned. And finally, I must avoid detection by my jailer’s partner waiting in the hallway. Once I’ve accomplished those three tasks, I’ll be home free. At least, that’s my assumption. I’ve yet to achieve task three. But tonight’s the night!

As soon as I hear the gentle slap of the jailer’s feet against the floor, I lift my wings and lean slightly forward, ready for my dash out the door.

“What are you doing, Deego?”

Startled, I jerk my head around to find Linklik eyeing me curiously.

With a warning squawk, I flap a wing at him, and he hops backward. “Leaving. Now scat. The jailer is coming.”

“Again?” Linklik glances at the door. “Before dinner?”

“Best time.”

He shifts his feet. “Is it so you don’t have to perform tomorrow?”

“Not the only reason.” I focus on the footsteps. She’ll be here any moment.

“Can I come, too?”

Before I can hiss a “no,” the door swings open. Ignoring Linklik, I jump into action. The door is propped, the jailer is distracted, and… go!

Heart in my throat, I waddle as fast as I can out the door and halt in the shadows. When the door clicks shut behind me, I exhale in relief. Task one complete.

“Wow, that was close.”

I let out an undignified squeak as Linklik appears at my side.

“Quite the adrenaline rush.” He puffs his feathers. “I see why you like this escaping thing. Kind of warm out here though.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I resist the urge to peck Linklik for potentially ruining my plans. Who knows. Maybe his presence will be useful—as bait.

“Come on,” I grumble. “But be quiet. Another guardsman waits at the end of the passage.”

Linklik lowers his head. “Be sneaky. Got it.”

When our claws click on the floor as we slink down the corridor, I wince, terrified the sound will alert the other sentry.

I hear the other guard before I see him and pause just out of sight. He’s leaning against the wall, humming some tune while staring mindlessly down at a noisy square in his hand.

“What now?” Linklik chitters.

I consider my options—a task that would’ve been easier if it wasn’t so warm. My enclosure is kept at a pleasant negative one degree Celsius. This hallway is well above that.

“We need to get around him, find the exit, and then…”

“Find Antarctica?” Linklik prompts.

“Somewhere better than Antarctica. It’s melting, remember?”

“Like it is out here?”

I snap my beak. “The guard is distracted. Perhaps we can sneak by.”

Plan set, we creep forward, slowing as we reach the sentinel, but he never looks up. As soon as we round the corner, we fling open our wings and speed down the hall.

When we reach the end of the passage, we pick another one. However, the farther we wander, the hotter it grows until we’re both panting. Just when I begin to question whether we’ll find an exit, we come into an open area—on the other side of the glass where the colony is.

Baerty spots us and opens his beak, but we can’t hear his derisive honk. Soon the whole colony is peering at us. Though I know we’re the spectacle, all I can think about is how cool they must be in the enclosure.

Why did I think escaping was a good idea? Hadn’t the jailers warned it was too hot outside? Why did I wish to escape a cold, safe environment where I lived in peace and comfort? Not to mention got free food. Perhaps we are the lucky ones.

“What are you two doing out here?”

“Busted,” Linklik squawks as the caretaker crosses her arms.

“Or rescued,” I correct, and readily turn myself in.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Dib is a stay-at-home mom of three small children. After marrying a soldier, she left her home state of South Carolina to live in random places across the United States. Her works of short fiction have been published by On the Premises magazine, Havok Publishing, and Ye Olde Dragon Books. She has also had short stories published by Toasted Cheese Literary Journal under the name R.J. Snowberger.

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