The Escape

Chapter 3

I open my eyes. A constellation of fluorescent lights swirl overhead. Dazzling lights circle the space above like a carousal, spinning round and round on the ceiling. My vision is still blurred. Vague outlines of rectangular objects appear each time I open my eyes. Breath becomes more and more shallow. Skin is steeped in sweat, salty residue drips down the side of my forehead in rivulets, drenching the cotton sheets underneath. I try to move, attempt to shift my limbs. Each muscle is locked into position. It is no use. I’m trapped beneath the bed covers. ‘Where am I?’ I wonder, searching the surrounds of my room. My eyes dart around the walls looking for a sign. A sharp intake of breath jolts me out of my reverie. I glance to the right. Metallic clinical equipment towers over the bed displaying a number of digital readings, most of which appear to be connected to my body. A series of tubes and wires lead their way to my bedside, creeping beneath the sheets like snakes. ‘Is this a dream?’ I wonder, feeling my heart rate quicken. A resonant beep echoes about the room. The sound mirrors my increasing heart rate. ‘What’s happening to me? How did I get here?’ I wonder, searching the confines of the room for an answer.

Vapour clouds escape my open mouth as they dissipate into the antiseptic laced air above my lips. Its redolence clings to the back of my throat. ‘I’m definitely in hospital,’ I think. I glance to the left. Cylindrical black iron-wrought bars encase the window next to my bedside obstructing the view of the shore. A wild ocean roars beyond the confines of my room as it tussles with the coast. Trees sway in the breeze sending ripples across the expanse of the ocean. The vista appears as if it is only minutes away. As if I could take a short walk, hop over the crudely constructed wooden fence separating the gravel path from the beach. The ocean is less than a minute away. A few short steps and I would be in the water. The view is almost too close to the coast, too short a distance. The sky is overcast overhead, cloud cover obscuring the horizon a mile in every direction. Fog has descended upon the landscape shrouding the surrounding area in a deep blanket hindering any sight beyond the limits of my vision.

Mould has collected in each crevice, grime, cigarette stains and flecks of dirt spray across the dividers embedded in the casement windows. The room sways, revolving as I lay back onto the cotton pillow. ‘What do they have me on?’ I wonder, searching into the crevices of my memory. Intermittent flashes of doctors standing at my bedside administering syringes into my outstretched arm appear like vivid apparitions from the depths. It feels like a sequence of surreal dreams sourced from some horrible nightmare. IVs dangle above, too many to count. Bags of anonymous clear fluid run through plastic tubes into my arms. Needles protrude from every available orifice on my body leading out of my skin as if I am some robot connected to a main frame computer.

‘Who did I meet?’ I wonder, staring at my arm resting on the bed. ‘Okay think. Doctor. Syringe. Good, keep going. IV bag, fluid.’ His face remains a blur. ‘Keep trying. Okay. Dark stormy night, that much I can remember. Wind rushing through my hair, stinging my face, obscuring my vision of the trail ahead. Muck puddles everywhere. Was it raining? I can’t be sure. Who was I running from? Where was I going?’ the questions are endless. The ideas run incomprehensible threads leading nowhere further than my bedside. ‘Think for God sake. Where was I? Who did I see?’ If I had the strength to ball up my hand into a fist I would slam it into the machine operating by my side sending the infuriating stack of medical devices to the floor. ‘There has to be something that stands out. A photograph, an image. Anything.’ Clenching my eyes shut I pray something will emerge from the black. I listen as the interval between each shrill bleep reduces. An incremental rise in my heartbeat matches my rising panic. All I can recall is running, fleeing the unknown. ‘Who was I running from?’ I wonder, searching into the depths of forgotten memory.

My eyes spring open. ‘It’s no use.’ My limbs dangle uselessly by my side, resting next to my body as if they were someone else’s. The events leading to this moment escape me. For all I know, they could have been some awful nightmare culminating in a horrific product of my imagination. I try to speak, call the assistance of anyone in the surrounding rooms. I can’t even be sure if I’m in a hospital or not. I stop for a moment. Listen as a soft murmur of noise filters into the room. I can hear the wind sweep past my window, rain spit against the glass next to my bed. Feet shuffle along a corridor, unintelligible speech muffled from behind the wooden frame. My eyes spring open once more. An iron notice board filled with writing hangs from a screw nailed onto the middle of the doorframe.

To the right of my bed there is a jumble of machines and expensive looking clinical equipment. The uses of the machines I can only imagine. LED dials display varying numbers. The walls are covered in lime green paint, cold and uninviting. ‘How did I get here?’ I can feel my extremities tingle beneath the covers, shaking like paper in the wind. ‘What is my name?’ I think, searching the surrounding walls for an answer. I have forgotten everything about myself. My identity, my personality, what has happened to me. The proceeding days, weeks, months, years are a blur. Everything up until this point could have been a dream, a coma, anything. A blank canvas I know nothing about. Everything apart from this moment in time is uncertain. I cannot even be sure of what year it is, let alone the day, the month.

Rain continues to bash against the window. ‘It must be winter,’ I think, watching another cloud of vapour escape my mouth. I feel as if I am trapped by the quilt resting over my body, trapping my frame underneath the bedclothes.

My eyes search the surrounds of the bed looking for any means of contacting someone from outside the room. ‘There must be something I can use to get their attention,’ I think. A single glass of water stands on my bedside resting next to a clipboard with something scrawled across the top. ‘My details. I have to see what it says.’ The writing is out of view. I can barely make out the jumble of letters written across the top of the sheet. My eyes narrow, squinting in a desperate attempt to make out what the lettering. I can move my neck. Feeling starts to come back to the muscles leading up to my skull. A dull sensation traverses the back of my head. I try to call out to anyone who can help. Opening my mouth a surge of breath escapes my parted lips. A spluttering succession of coughs is all I can manage. The attempt sends another useless gust of air into the space above my mouth. ‘I’m trapped,’ I think, dropping my head to the pillow.

Another vivid image flashes through my mind. Panting breath. I’m searching for a way out. Cuts and grazes cover my skin, as if I have navigated a field of nettles. I can picture barbed wire, a chain linked fence. Discarded machinery aged from disuse underneath an old warehouse covered in cobwebs. A putrid stench of mouldering wood and turpentine, oily rags and charcoal fill my nostrils. ‘How do I remember all of this?’ I wonder.

Frost glimmers in the moonlight, sparkling forests in the dark. I’m nestled between the bushes, shrouded amid the trees. Eyes darting about the expanse of the wild, searching for something I cannot identify. I cannot be sure of where I have been. The trail I have followed has been broken. Shut off by significant gaps in my memory. Much of what I can recall may or may not be true. Each event seems lifelike, so far away. It could have been a horrible dream. Dogs’ barks rise up into the frosty night sky, their calls nearing with each breath. Sirens wail in the distance calling out into the surrounding overgrowth.

I stare down at my useless limbs covered in the white bed sheet. I could be looking at anyone else’s body, a dead person’s carcass for what use they serve. By now, the resonant beep has stabilised. Brief snatches of conversation filter in through the cracks underneath the doorframe. Their significance trails off, peters out into the vacuum within the room. My mind races, I try to think of what has happened.

I can hear keys jingle outside the door. ‘Who’s that?’ I wonder, my eyes fixated on the door. The sound of the lock resonates throughout the room. My heart sky-rockets as I watch the door open. The handle turns, my pulse elevates. The door opens.  A bright light drenches the room in a pallid radiance. The room is much darker than I thought. Gradually my eyes adjust to the light seeping in from beyond the room. Bracing myself for what I’m about to encounter I clutch onto the sheets underneath my body. My answer may come sooner than I expected.