My eyes widened in surprise. There was someone standing at the door of the rumpus room. Someone I'd never seen before. A boy around my age, maybe a year older. Tall; taller than me, and much wider across the shoulders. He was wearing a bright red varsity jacket and holding something in his right hand, although neither fact registered with me at the time. He was staring at me slack-jawed and speechless, astonishment stamped all over his face in capital letters...

Sprung
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“It’s time”, he said.

I had only just laid down on the sliding bed that was to pass me into the MRI machine. Minutes before the two prison guards with me had been told that no weapons or anything metallic was allowed in the room while the MRI was operating. The Hispanic one had handed his belt and weapon to the other and gone inside with me, his charge. He now lay unconscious on the floor nearby. The man standing over me spoke again:

“This is it. You’re sprung. Come with me and keep it quiet.”