The ferry reached the other shore, and the arm rose.  The nurse started the truck's engine again, shuddering as it roared to life under the hood.

She carefully made it off the ferry and onto the main road. 

About 30 minutes of driving and nervously checking the tarp in her rear view mirror, she pulled into the driveway of her single story house.  With three bedrooms and two bathrooms, along with a living room, kitchen, and office, the house always seemed to be a little empty, especially after the death of her husband.  But none of that was on her mind at the moment.

She jumped out of the truck and sprinted for the front door of her house.  Ripping open the door, she slipped in and shut it behind her. 

She slid down the door with a sigh, before crawling over to the living room window to get a peek at her truck.  The tarp started to move again, almost as though fighting in a struggle against something trying to get out.

She frantically grabbed her phone out of her pocket, fumbling it a few times before securing the device in her hands.  With shaking hands, she dial the well known three-digit number used for emergencies only.

"911, what's your emergency?"  A man's voice spoke on the other line.

"That escaped inmate from the island asylum..."

The nurse struggled to get the words out of her quickly closing throat.

The 911 operator urged her to continue.

She peeked through the window again, and panic rose from her gut to her throat.

"He's climbing out of the bed of my truck!"