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Brisk wind blew relentlessly across the quad. Four men, each clad in a thick coat and fur-lined hat stood in an improvised circle. The hard years had chiseled deep wrinkles, and not a one still had color to his hair.

“Only four.” Pete said, which elicited a soft round of murmurs of agreement.

“Seeing you guys is great fodder for nightmares and all, but can we get on with it?” Gus’s voice had all the compassion of gravel, and a similar timbre.

“Yeah, here, here.” Isaac piped up, always the vocal one. But they were all old and cold, and getting out of the cold had a special poignancy.

“Okay, come on.” Pete turned, and the foursome began to march across the yard. Sixty years ago, this lone prison island off the coast of San Francisco was the only home these men would have for a dozen years. Bank robbing carried a high penalty, especially when the offenders were caught. In 1947, ten men executed the largest bank robbery ever in the Hawaii, having banks before even having official state status with the US. Two were shot and killed that day. Two died in prison, cancer got one, as did a car accident another.

Fate had deemed only these four clemency long enough to wait for this day. Sixty years to the day, and the statue of limitations would dissolve. The money would be, for lack of a better word, legal tender. The crew had all agreed not to talk, and not to take, in honor of the fallen, until this day.

The men would not get to enjoy much of the take, each share now worth a full million dollars. It was now a gift, to children or grandchildren or as a donation toward children to be. Perhaps to do some good. A warped robin hood, steal from the dead and give to the not yet born.

The people milling about were focused on taking pictures, smiling and waving to cameras. Pete was repulsed, tourists gawking and chattering about. This was the prison for the worst, including himself, not a place for site-seeing. It should be respected, sacrosanct. But that time had come and gone it seemed, and he had lived to see it. The place hadn’t beaten him, he, no they, had outlived it’s terrible grip. And while the island may be here for centuries until worn away by salty sea, no one in the universe could take that pride from him.

Continue reading ‘Two Late’