The Escape

By PMJ Downing

The year is 2059 and the sex laws have taken hold in England. Many stately homes are turned into prisons and sexual deviants are locked away without trial and at the mercy of vicious warders.

Pippa Osborne is one such prisoner until she escapes and, by chance, meets fellow deviant, Gary Bristow. Together they travel the length of the river Thames in a small boat in an attempt to reach France and evade the dreaded Capture and Recovery Personnel who are intent on returning them to the institution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Feb 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781554879465

Book preview

The year is 2059 and the sex laws have taken hold in England. Many stately homes are turned into prisons and sexual deviants are locked away without trial and at the mercy of vicious warders.

Pippa Osborne is one such prisoner until she escapes and, by chance, meets fellow deviant, Gary Bristow. Together they travel the length of the river Thames in a small boat in an attempt to reach France and evade the dreaded Capture and Recovery Personnel who are intent on returning them to the institution.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Escape

Copyright © 2011 PMJ Downing

ISBN: 978-1-55487-946-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Smashwords Edition

The Escape

By

PMJ Downing

Dedication

To my wife, Dee, always a great inspiration.

Chapter One

The wind pushed black clouds across the face of the moon in ragged tatters. The gusts increased in velocity as it blew spatters of rain ahead of it. An indication of the force of the storm to come.

A figure, clothed in black with a woollen hat pulled down low over the face hiding the features, slid silently beneath the trees that buffeted wildly in the wind. Keeping close to the wall, the figure froze as the sound of a guard’s footsteps crunched loudly on the gravel path.

A heavily built man in a military style uniform, a sidearm in a holster at his hip, stopped and lit a cigarette, cupping his hands about the flame of his lighter to shield it against the wind. It took him several tries, angling his body to get the most protection, before his cigarette lit. He gratefully drew smoke deep into his lungs and held it there for a few seconds before he exhaled. The smoke whipped away instantly to nothing.

Another guard patrolling in the opposite direction soon joined him and they chatted amicably while they smoked their cigarettes, their backs against the fury of the gale, collars pulled high.

It’s going to chuck it down any minute, the first guard said. The other’s reply was lost in the wind.

A strong gust tore through the trees agitating the branches into frenzy. A protruding twig snagged on the woollen hat and neatly removed it from the head of the crouching figure. Long honey blonde hair cascaded about a woman’s shoulders. She stifled a curse but remained motionless, fearing that the guards would detect any untowards movement.

At last, the first guard flipped away his cigarette. It bounced on the path in a flurry of sparks, the dying embers torn to shreds in an instant. He muttered something to his companion and the two guards continued their patrol.

With her heart pounding painfully against her ribs and her stomach contracting in nervous tension, Phillippa Osborn remained motionless as the clouds parted and the full moon flooded the area in a cold, hard light. And she remained motionless, hidden beneath the tree until the clouds once more obscured the moon. Crouching low, she ran as fast as she could across an intervening gap in the trees. A large tree stood close to the wall and she had spent the first eight weeks of her imprisonment searching for just such a tree and an opportunity to escape.

The institution, an old mansion, dark and forbidding like a set from a horror movie, was where people who had broken the sex laws were imprisoned. The warders, mostly females specially chosen for their sadistic streak, would seize any opportunity to humiliate, beat and sexually assault the inmates. She herself had been on the receiving end of such treatment many times and she vowed that once she had escaped she would never ever go back there.

The windows to her room had no handles on the inside but she had pried the window open with a knife stolen from the dining room. Being on the third floor, there were no bars so she had been able to climb perilously onto the crumbling window ledge. Then risking her life she climbed down the decaying drainpipe to the ground below. Twice she had to hide in the shadows as guards patrolled the grounds. She had crossed the vast lawns undetected to reach the tree under which she now hid.

Phillippa leapt for the first of the low-slung limbs. She very nearly missed the branch as the blustering wind almost tore it out of her reach, but her grasping fingers locked onto the rough bark and she quickly pulled herself up into the foliage. For a moment, she rested to regain her breath before climbing higher into the relative safety of the tree. Gingerly she worked her way out along the branch until she was