The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared

and all seven had been discovered and executed. Every time it happened, the others in the barrack had mourned. And the biggest mourner was Herbert Einstein, it would seem. Only Allan knew that the reason for Herbert’s sadness was that, yet again, he hadn’t been executed.
    One of the challenges of getting onto a ship was that every prisoner wore black and white prison clothes. It was impossible to blend in with the crowd. In addition, there was a narrow passageway to the ship and that was guarded, and well-trained guard dogs sniffed at every load that was lifted on to the ship by crane.
    Also, it wasn’t exactly easy to find ships where Allan would be readily accepted as a stowaway. A lot of transports went to mainland China, others to Wonsan on the North Korean east coast. There was reason to believe that a Chinese or North Korean captain who found a Gulag prisoner in his hold would either turn back with him or throw him overboard (with the same final result, but with less bureaucracy).
    Overland didn’t seem much easier. Northwards into Siberia where it really was cold was no solution. Nor was going westwards into China.
    What remained was southwards, to South Korea where they would surely look after a Gulag refugee who would be assumed to be an enemy of communism. Too bad that North Korea lay in between.
     
    There would be some stumbling blocks along the way, Allan realised, before he had even had time to work on something vaguely resembling a plan for his overland escape to the south. But there was no point in worrying himself to death because then he’d never get any vodka.
    Should he try on his own, or along with someone else? In that case it would have to be Herbert, miserable though he was. In fact, Allan thought he could find some use for Herbert in his preparations. And it would certainly be more fun to be two on the run, than just one.
    ‘Escape?’ said Herbert Einstein. ‘Overland? To South Korea? Via North Korea?’
    ‘More or less,’ said Allan. ‘At least that’s the working plan.’
    ‘The chances that we will survive can’t be more than microscopic,’ said Herbert.
    ‘You’re probably right about that,’ said Allan.
    ‘I’m in!’ said Herbert.
     
    After five years, everybody in the camp knew how little cognitive activity there was in the head of prisoner number 133 – Herbert – and even when there was evidence of some activity, it seemed to only cause trouble internally.
    This, in turn, had created a certain tolerance in the prison guards when it came to Herbert Einstein. If any other prisoner didn’t stand the way he was supposed to in the food line, then at best he would be shouted at, second best he would get a rifle butt in his stomach, and in the worst case it would be goodbye for ever.
    But after five years Herbert still couldn’t find his way around the barracks. They were all just the same brown colour, and all the same size; it was confusing. The food was always served between barrack thirteen and fourteen, but prisoner 133 could just as often be found wandering about beside barrack seven. Or nineteen. Or twenty-five.
    ‘Damn it, Einstein,’ the prison guards would say. ‘The food line is over there. No, not there, there! It has been there the whole damn time!’
    Allan thought that he and Herbert could make use of this reputation. They could of course escape in their prison clothes, but to stay alive in those same prison clothes for more than a minute or two, that would be harder. Allan and Herbert each needed a soldier’s uniform. And the only prisoner who could get anywhere near the soldiers’ clothes depot without being shot immediately on discovery was 133 Einstein.
    So Allan told his friend what to do. It was a question of ‘going the wrong way’ when it was time for lunch, because it waslunchtime for the staff at the clothes depot too. During that half-hour the depot was guarded solely by the soldier at the machine gun in watchtower four. Like all the other guards, he knew about prisoner 133’s strange ways, and if he saw Herbert he would probably just shout at him rather than shoot him. And if Allan was wrong about that, it wasn’t a huge issue considering Herbert’s eternal death wish.
    Herbert thought that Allan had worked it out well. But what was it that he was supposed to do, could he tell him one more time?
     
    And of course it went wrong. Herbert got lost and for the first time in ages found himself in the right place for the food line.