Katar & Spade

Katar

Zak Conner sat in the corner of the plain white room, like he did everyday. The padding in the room made it impossible for him to hurt himself, and the straight jacket tied tightly around him made it impossible for him to hurt other people. He doesn't remember how long he has been trapped in the stupid room, but it felt like an eternity.

Of course, it wasn't like he didn't deserve to be in there either. Zak knew there was just something that didn't click in his brain like it did for other people. It had started with animals, and his parents really should have seen the early signs. Unfortunately, they didn't realize the danger their son harbored until it was too late for them.

They were six feet under now.

Zak couldn't help but smile at the thought of his first actual kill. After the murder of his own parents, Zak went on his own personal killing spree, not wanting to loose the feeling ending a life supplied him. And for being sixteen years old at the time, Zak evading the police and eventually the FBI for longer than anyone would have suspected.

It was about a year before Zak was finally caught. And he guessed it's been about two years being trapped in this insane asylum. It wasn't hard to claim being insane when you actually were. After all, it was the voices that convinced him it would be fun in the first place.

But now all Zak had was the memories of that glorious year while he sat stuck in that room. He used to be in a normal one.

Until he killed his psychiatrist with his own pen. That was quite an eventful day.

Ever since then, Zak had been trying to think of a way to escape. After all, all he had time to do was think. They wouldn't even let him go out and mingle with the other people. They said he was a bad influence.

But after two years, Zak had a detailed plan running through his head. He slowly pieced together what he wanted to do in order to get out of there, but he believed he finally had them all in line. A full proof plan, if all went accordingly.

In the short amount of time Zak had been there, he had already had four bad asthma attacks. Two were real, two were a test to see if he could pull off faking one. He could.

Zak waited until it was time for his psychiatrist meeting. An old bald guy walked in like he did every other day, making sure to stay a safe distance away even if the boy did have a straight jacket on. He went on and started asking the same old questions, and Zak barely answered like he usually did until the questions started to pertain to the murders.

Zak could never help but gloat a little bit when it came to that subject. It was also then when Zak felt like his fake asthma attack would work best. In the middle of one of his outbursts of laughter, he made his breath get hitched and the acting began.

It wasn't long before the door opened again and four nurses rushed in with a gurney.

"Another asthma attack," one of them stated as they undid the straitjacket, putting a stethoscope up to Zak's chest to determine the severity. "Get him to the infirmary. Almost no air is making it to the lungs."

Two guys lifted Zak onto the gurney and wheeled him to another room. It was much larger, with around twenty beds for patients. During the four times he stayed for a few days, he made sure to memorize where everything was. Of course, he would only have a short period of time when the nurses would be more focused on getting him in stable condition than remembering to handcuff him to the bed.

The moment when they transferred him to the bed and two of them began to fiddle with the nebulizer that would help him breathe, Zak struck. Each nurse carried a syringe filled and ready to knock out a patient in record timing for just a situation. Zak knew this out of personal experience.

So the first thing Zak did was swipe two out of the pockets that were closest to him and jabbed them with it. Zak rolled off the bed as the two of them collapsed downwards, out cold. The two ladies were stunned for a second too long as Zak lunged and slammed both of their heads on the corner of a shelf, knocking them unconscious as well.

Zak would have loved to end each life, but he knew he just didn't have time for that. Since the first day he was wheeled into this place, he memorized each direction and each location he passed by. Including the room where he knew his personal belongings would be. Sure, it would be smarter to hightail it out of there, but he just couldn't leave some things behind. That is, if they even kept it.

Zak went straight to the drawer where he knew the scalpels and other sharp objects were kept. After grabbing a few, he ran out of the room just as an alarm began to blare. Zak ran through the doors that led to the room he wanted and tipped a shelf to block in entry, just in case. Not like they would go looking in there right away anyway. They would assume he would look for an exit first.

Zak leisurely walked down the long aisles made from tall metal shelves that had boxes placed in alphabetical order. Some were so dusted over, they must have been there for years.

After a few minutes, Zak finally found the box with his name written on it. He set it on the ground and opened it. A pair of clothes that he wore when he arrived were in there, along with some random things that were in his pockets. But that wasn't what Zak risked his freedom for.

His two katars. His favorite weapon.

Zak's father was into collecting antiques, and these caught Zak's attention since he was little. A single long blade that split into three when the handle was gripped tightly. Beautiful. There would be no way to get weapons like these anywhere else easily.

Zak quickly changed into his normal clothes. He then looked around and smiled at his luck. It was as if the universe wanted him to escape and keep on killing. A narrow window was placed close to the ceiling in order to let in light. Zak climbed one of the metal shelves and pried it open, slipping through and onto the soft green grass. The sun was close to setting, so Zak hid along the shadows of the building as he scanned for the easiest route of escape.

Following the trees that dotted the yard, Zak made his way to the fence. He grabbed a small saw he stole from the infirmary and cut the wires, slipping through and into freedom.