The Escape

Chapter 6

Dazzling lights swirl overhead. A faint redolence of charcoal and mouldering wood fill the air as I shift my position on the bed. For a moment I stop. ‘I can move.’ The revelation hits like a bolt of lightning surging through my veins. A searing pain traverses my abdomen. My stomach lurches, a wave of nausea sweeps over me as I clutch at my side in agony.

‘You’ve been out for quite some time. Can I get you a drink?’ A gruff voice bellows from the open door. A pallid light seeps into the room. I nod my head, careful not to move too quickly. The door shuts. I can hear him locking it as I stare at a tarnished wooden sculpture of an ivory horn resting on a lacquered mahogany bedside table. Animal heads protrude from the pine wood walls. Gaping mouths reveal jagged teeth suspended in animation. Brass rectangular plates inscribed with each animal’s name and date of capture is etched beneath each head. It feels as if I’ve accidently walked into a hunter’s paradise.

I look across the room watching as a bearded overweight man wearing a red and black chequered shirt stands with a metal tray with a clear jug and tumbler on the shag rug. He wears a black leather waist coat with blue jeans and ochre timberland boots. His footsteps plod across the room, shaking the precarious floorboards underneath. Setting the tray onto the bedside locker resting he collapses on the edge of the bed swaying the mattress with his weight. A wide smile spreads across his bearded face. His bald head glimmers in the light.

‘Had a good sleep?’ he asks, pouring the water into the glass tumbler. He hands it to me. My fingers are weak. I let the glass slip out of my grasp letting the contents fall to the floor. The man sits up from the bed. ‘I’ll get that.’ His burly frame bends over to scoop up the shattered glass and disappears out of the empty room. I can hear liquid drip onto the floor. My head spins as I stare at the rotor blade air-conditioning unit spin hypnotically above the bed, revolving around and around. The night is humid, hot and sticky. A thin film of sweat covers my skin. I’ve never felt this groggy in my life.

‘Here’s a fresh glass,’ he announces as he bursts through the door with another glass in his hand. This time he sets it one the bedside locker with a straw resting on the side of the tumbler. ‘You must be one hell of a fighter. Do you have any idea what they had you on?’ he says, sitting back down onto the edge of the bad. I feel too weak to reply. My throat feels scratched, sore from lack of use. ‘Here, drink this. You’ll need it after what you’ve been through.’ He holds the glass near my mouth as I sip from the straw.

The man set the glass onto the bedside locker again. He stares at me for a moment, stroking his beard as he fixates his eyes on mine. There is a sinister glint in his eyes.

‘You’re some hell of a man for one man, I’ll tell you that.’

I want to reply, but feel too weak. I lower my head and nod, the effort sends a thumping ache through my skull.

‘Hey, take it easy,’ he says, pushing my head back down onto the pillow. ‘You need your rest, after what you went through. I’m surprised your even here from what they tell me.’

I want to ask him what has happened to me. Before the hospital bed, before the day I woke up and couldn’t recall anything beyond the dream. I want to pry open any piece of information I can about him and disseminate what knowledge he has. If only I could get my mouth to move.

‘Those boys took good care of you, I’ll tell you that. They shipped you in here like some precious piece of cargo they did. They wrapped you up as if you were some shiny jewellery. I bet you’re dying to know why the hell you’re here, aren’t you?’

My eyelids close in response, becoming heavier with each passing second.

‘Well, I’ll save that ‘til you’re up and about. Can’t give you the truck load while you’re sprawled out like this. Sit tight, and I’ll tell you what I know. You’ve had some journey.’