On Thin Ice

The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. He went rigid for a moment hoping the crack wouldn’t widen or zigzag around the lake. 

Hope is a terrible thing.

***

He wasn’t about to get caught after three decades of life in crime. He was determined to make it across the lake to see his daughter after an eternity. There was much to spill and apologise for.

“Stop! Stop!” The shouts did not deter him. He hesitated as the searchlights danced around him like arrows, each pointing in a different direction, as if hinting at more than one outcome depending on the path he took. For a few moments, he was mesmerised by the lights, his breath billowing like steam even as the cold air chafing his nose. The last time he had heeded the call to stop, he spent almost three years in prison. The punishment didn’t fit the crime and he was almost killed in a scuffle on the inside.

I cannot stop.

He glanced back at the squad of policemen, and then stepped on the icy lake, its surface frozen. He stomped the ice lightly to assure himself it wasn’t precariously thin and broke into an easy run, putting as much distance between him and his posse as possible.

“Stop!” A voice called out yet again, its pitch higher.

No way.

Across the lake, he could make out silhouettes of homes and knew one of them would have a welcoming fire burning. Just the thought of that warmth made him quicken his step.

“Come back… Sir! We just want to talk to you–” A sudden gale cut off the sentence and the words trailed off.

***

He was visiting this hamlet of a village, wanting to get away from the bustle of big cities, and from his past. Fate, as it would have, had other plans. He had been enjoying an evening glass of hot toddy when the three cops entered the inn. As they spoke with the owner, something pricked the back of his neck and, with instinct calling, he slipped out.

He was driving down the mountain on the narrow, winding road, when he noticed the car behind him flash its headlights. He panicked and hit the gas pedal. The car kept up the chase for a mile or so before the red and blue lights began flashing and the siren went off. His first instinct had been to turn off into the forest but he didn’t want to risk falling off a cliff he couldn’t see in the dark. 

He suspected one of the inmates had ratted him out again, perhaps as a plea bargain, and he was deemed a fugitive. So, he sped on knowing it wouldn’t be long before the cops caught up with him. As if fate anticipated his thoughts, the road turned to a rough, gravelled surface, and then the lake.

***

“Please! Stop! Why did you run away from–” The cops seemed desperate to get him. So, why weren’t they chasing him across the lake yet? 

After a few moments, brighter headlights shone a cone of brightness across the lake, as if making his escape easier. The dazzling lights also revealed that he was almost halfway to freedom, at least for tonight.

A much louder voice boomed from a megaphone. “Sir, the ice is thin. We urge you to come back. We just want to ask a few questions about your daughter. We found her overdosed.”

As a supplement to the plummeting temperatures, a chill ran up his spine. What has Prissy done now? He had not been a dad to be proud of but having cleaned himself up, he was looking forward to renewing his bond with her. Instead, he stood in the middle of a gloomy frozen lake with blinding lights burning into his back while shards of ice made huge arrows pointing at him, dead in the centre.

He turned to the lights, raised his arms, and waved to indicate he was unarmed. Then, he began walking back at a quicker pace, his thoughts with his daughter. That’s when the lake cracked.

The last words he heard as his head went below was “Easy, Sir! In the middle of the lake, you’re on thin ice–”