I’m so cold. My core temperature has dropped. I can’t stop shivering. Each muscle convulses trying to generate some heat. There’s no protection out here. It’s too harsh. Everything is open to the elements. I haven’t eaten since I left the cottage. I don’t think I can survive much longer. The black corduroys and check shirt I was wearing when I arrived cling to my skin, hair is still dripping wet. I shouldn’t have left. They’re probably looking for me now. Whoever they are. They’re out there somewhere. Searching for me. They won’t stop until they find me, no matter how long it takes.
Rain continues to lash down. I can’t see further than half a mile through the storm. There’s no way I can be found now, no way I can be rescued. What am I running from? An elderly lady serving me tea and biscuits? How the hell did I get here? I look up at the overcast sky. Watch the branches overhead sway amid the unrelenting breeze. This is my chance. Ducking down, I race into the storm head first. Running as fast as my legs can carry me. The soaked ground spins as I run into the storm, fighting the urge to drop to my knees and allow the deep earth take what is left.
My lungs are burning. Each breath becomes more difficult with every step I take. The surrounding countryside offers no end in sight. Grey hills and steep valleys provide an empty vista. I’m trapped by the elements. I have no idea where to turn, which way to go. The dark is closing in. This feels too familiar. I’ve been here before. Trapped and alone lost in the wilderness with nowhere else to turn. An overpowering sense of fatigue hangs over me. My eyelids begin to fall. I can’t go on much further.
I slow to a crawl trudging through muck searching for any means of escape. The ground is loose underfoot. My boots slide as they try to grip the shifting earth. Each movement falters, I stumble, fall to the ground. Rain stabs me in the back. Icy winds numb my fingers, freezing my skin, cutting through my ribs. I can feel the temperature drop.
I look up to the sky. Watch as rain falls across the landscape. I can’t go on. My legs cannot support the weight of my body. I am sapped of any strength. Everything begins revolve faster and faster. Instinctively I reach into the air trying to clutch onto anything to break my fall. Moments later I collapse to the ground face first. The moment I hit the soft ground my world goes black. The landscape vanishes the instant I fall.
I open my eyes. The room swirls around as I lay on my back. ‘Where am I?’ I wonder, eyes searching the ceiling above my head. A resonant beep echoes through the room. I’m in hospital again, I must be. The familiar clinical redolence, the strong stench of antiseptic. I look around the room. Every muscle aches. I can hear footsteps approach. The lock on the door rattles. Someone’s outside. I shut my eyes, concealing my wakefulness. I listen as they enter the room.
‘I thought you brought him to the intensive care unit?’ a man’s voice announces.
‘Intensive care? Why the hell would I want to bring him there?’
‘I don’t know, maybe because you said you would, right after he left a trail of blood and a pile of empty sheets crumpled on the bed.’
‘The room was locked, the door was shut. Nobody could have got in here. Who’s to say you hadn’t altered his records, taken his life into your own hands? I’m beginning to doubt your credibility over this. He could have been killed.’
‘Okay, calm down. He’s here now. He’s resting, somehow. How is he even still alive? Shouldn’t he be technically dead right now after what he’s been through?’
‘He’s lying on the bed. He’s underneath the sheets. The machine next to him is still ticking away. He must still be alive. No thanks to your little stunt.’
‘My stunt? I wasn’t even involved with him. I did my job. Now, is there anything else you would like to add?’
A brief silence ensued.
‘Where did he go?’
The other man’s voice is silent. I can hear my heart beat rise slightly. The cardiac machine hooked up to me mirrors my mounting tension.
‘There is no way of knowing. Perhaps your suspicions are true, maybe he is much sought after. Who would kidnap him anyway? It’s not as if he has any connections outside of the compound. No records of family calls, relations, friends. He received no letters throughout the duration of his stay. Evidence from his personal diary mentions nothing of family. His history is a blank slate.’
‘So he just crash landed from Mars and fell out of the sky, is that it?’
‘That’s not it. Please, I’m trying to think of who could have gained access to this room. There are obvious entry points. The door isn’t damaged. Whoever had entered the room obviously had a set of keys. The window is intact. No traces of interference.’
‘Want my opinion?’
The other man hesitates.
‘Yes, yes I do.’
‘I don’t think we have any idea who this person is because someone or some group of people don’t want us to know.’
‘Really? Why do you suggest that?’
‘His files are clear. Everything preceding his incarceration reads like a typical mid-20s administrative assistant working in a mediocre temp post in the city. It makes no sense. He went to school, got his degree, got his job. He had no reason to do what he did. There’s no motives, no definitive leads. I can’t make anything of it.’
‘So basically it was out of the blue. No motive, nothing.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Great. Looks as if we have an easy job on our hands. Coffee?’
‘Love one. Think our friend over here would like one? Looks as if he could use it.’
I feel their eyes on me. Stay calm, don’t move. I can hear the machine speed up. I listen as their footsteps exit the room. The door closes behind them. The keys fiddle with the lock. I grip the sheets trying to remain still hoping the room is clear. Lifting the lip of the sheets from my face I can see the room is empty. I have to get out of here. I still know little of my past and from the sounds of it so do the investigators. ‘What do they want with me?’ I wonder, pulling the sheets off the bed. The moment I swing my feet to face the floor I shiver. Each muscle convulses in an effort to generate some heat. My upper arms ache throbbing with each beat of my heart.
Just as I set my feet on the floor the handle begins to jerk. My blood runs cold. I duck underneath the covers wrapping the edges of the sheet around me. The keys turn in the lock. Shutting my eyes I can hear the door swing open. ‘Hope they don’t notice,’ I think, listening to their footsteps as they enter the room.
‘Poor bastard,’ one of the men says.
‘I know. Hate to be where he is. Probably doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone what month.’
‘Least he had a better Christmas than you.’
‘Would you stop? Don’t remind me. Can we just focus on our man here and how he escaped? I don’t think my wife’s cooking has anything to do with our investigation.’
‘Lighten up. It’s not as if he’s going anywhere. Look at him. He’s practically a doorstop. Probably hasn’t a clue where he is or how he got here. What do you reckon it would be like being him? Lying there, not having an idea about where he went to school, who his mother was, what happened to him.’
‘Look can we focus? Someone must have noticed his disappearance. He was here at the one a.m. check-in and gone by two. How do explain that? Nobody saw anything. No records, no eyewitnesses of anyone enter this section of the building. From what I gather, they had to be in the building long before they entered his room. Did you talk to the nurses?’
‘Had a real friendly chat with them. Asked them for their numbers and all. Got a few. You should try it. I’m sure your wife won’t mind.’
‘Gerry please. For Christ sake he’s probably as baffled as you and I are about this and you’re not helping. Now, where did he go? What did they say?’
‘One nurse, some short gook with the ponytail, said she checked the room at twenty past two in the morning. Room was locked, no sign of forced entry, no sign of anything suspicious at all.’
‘Right, go on.’
‘Walked in, opened the door. Man was gone. Windows shut, blankets smeared with blood. Machines scattered about the floor. Place was in a mess according to her.’
‘Where did the traces of blood lead?’
‘Didn’t say. Ran back to the nurses’ station. Told one of the staff the patient was missing.’
‘Did you speak to them?’
‘They said the same. Pool of blood left on the bed and only the bed. It was the man’s. The floor was spotless.’
I listen carefully, steadying my breath.
‘So where did he go? Fingerprints on the windows? Any signs of escape?’
‘Nothing. Place was clean.’
‘So whoever did this, can they do it again? They had keys, obviously. The window was locked. No other way in or out without making some kind of mark on the exterior of the room.’
‘More or less.’
‘So we basically have no clue as to how he escaped.’
‘That’s about right.’
‘Speak to any of the other staff? Doctors, nurses, guards?’
‘There was only a couple on the desk at the time. Their stories are the same. No-one in or out past the nurses’ station.’
‘No unusual faces passing the desk on the way in or out of the unit? Any suspicious faces? Any unusual characters?’
‘Not that I am aware of. According to the nurses, the place was clean. Nothing unusual at all to report. Just a routine day as far as they were concerned.’
‘How the hell could someone get in here anyway? Place is harder to get into than a bloody bank. It’s not as if he got up from the side of the bed and strolled out of here. I had to pass through at least two keypad restricted doors to get into this wing. Do you know how long it took to do that?’
‘Surprise me.’
‘Twenty minutes. That long to walk fifty metres from one end of the corridor to the other. I tell you, whoever these men were, they must have done this before.’
‘This glass is double bolted, reinforced. If someone were to drop from this height they’d fall to their death. How do explain that?’
The room was silent for a moment. The shrill beeps from the cardiac machine emitted a metronomic noise.
‘How would he survive if he was taken off his drip? According to his medical records he should have died within minutes.’
‘Unless he was given something the moment he was taken from the bed.’
‘Adrenaline? Some kind of stimulant?’
‘Doctors screened him. No signs of anything. Clear apart from the other chemicals they were pumping into him.’
‘Then how the hell did they get him out?’
I can hear them as if their voices are right next to my ear.
‘Only other possibility is someone on the inside helped him out.’
‘Who would help him out? It’s not as if he’s anything special. There’s more to this. There has to be.’
‘Then what? How can you tell? For all we know someone could have infiltrated the system. Talked to a couple of people on the inside. He had to get help if he had any real way out of this place.’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Maybe there’s more to this man than meets the eye. Maybe there is something that doesn’t quite add up that we should be looking at. Talk to any of the other staff on the ward?’
‘Not yet, maybe we should have a word with a few of them, see what they have to say.’
I can hear them get up from their seats. Their footsteps leading towards the door.
‘Whoever he is, they went to a lot of trouble to take him out. Research his background if you can as well.’
‘How did he get back in? That’s what I want to know.’
I listen as they open the door. The faint clamour of the corridor seeps into the room. I hold onto the sheets. The door closes.
Holding still for a few moments I listen carefully for any signs of activity. Opening my eyes, I check the room. It’s empty. Whipping the sheets off my body I swing my feet off the end of the bed. The room sways. The IV is still firmly attached to my arm. ‘How do I keep ending up in hospital?’ I wonder staring incredulously at the collection of clinical machines lining the wall next to my bed. At least I have a private room. White tape connects a series of tubes to my skin. Deep incisions pierce a number of sites on my arm.
I can hear footsteps. A surge of adrenaline shoots through my torso. I’m frozen, locked into position. I remain still listening to the sound of people pass by. I let out a breath turning my attention to the needle protruding from my arm.
There’s no other way to do it. Grimacing I rip the IV from my arm. Pain shoots through my upper body. Blood spurts out of my skin staining the hospital gown I am wearing a deep scarlet. Red liquid seeps from my skin. I try to stop the flow with my other hand. There’s no time. Reaching for the other needle I yank it out of my bicep watching as a pool of blood splatters across the ground surrounding the bed. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ I think, staring at the red blotches covering the bed spread and ground. Blood runs down both arms. I’m saturated.
‘If I’m going to get out of here I’m going to have to do it myself.’ I stagger towards the door. Grabbing a syringe filled with an unnamed solution from beside my bed I orientate my body towards the toilet door. My feet drag along the cold linoleum floor. As I reach the door I take one more last look at my room. A trail of blood leads its way towards the en suite. I shove the weight of my body against the toilet door. The frame swings open. The impact spatters blood across the bathroom mirror. Above the toilet there is a narrow window. It’s just big enough to get through. There’s no other way. I have no idea how high up the floor is. If this is any higher than one or two stories, I’m dead.
There’s no time. The window is already open. Jumping onto the toilet seat lid I clamber onto the cistern. Blood trickles out of my arms, leading a red trail from the bed to the toilet. Shutting my eyes I propel my body forwards. I squeeze through the gap in the window. The air is cold. It rushes past me, stings my skin. I take one final look at the ground. ‘This is it,’ I think. Grabbing onto the edges of the window I force my torso out of the open window. The tarmac underneath hurtles towards me too fast. My body drops to the ground. I land on my shoulder pain shoots through my arm.
After a few moments I rise to my feet. Stumbling, I traipse across the car park of the hospital grounds. There are a fleet of taxis waiting at the entrance. This is my chance. I run as fast as I can. I move my limbs through the pain. There is a taxi driver parked right outside the entrance. The driver’s face is obscured by today’s newspaper. Gripping the syringe I dive for the handle on the driver’s door. Yanking it open I shove the syringe right up to the man’s neck.
‘Take me to the airport.’ I shout. He is stunned into silence. The paper drops to the ground. His lips tremble as he reaches for the door. ‘The syringe is filled with high strength sodium hydroxide. One movement of my thumb and you’ll be on the floor. Open the passenger door, now.’ I demand, staring into his eyes. The man flicks a button beside him. Instantly I jump into the car, diving into the passenger seat. ‘Shut the door.’ The diver slams the door. ‘Drive,’ I shout, shoving the needle deeper into the side of his neck. The driver responds, slamming his foot against the accelerator. The car shoots forward thrusting us backwards with its momentum. There is no turning back now. I have escaped.