The John Doe

  Chapter 15:

  It was full Summer when John was again out and about, again very thin, again weak, tiring easily. He couldn’t work out how he’d been detected, and couldn’t get any hints. Things had been going so well. Finally, he concluded that the cameras he thought he’d stopped had just kept going. He had to practice his telekinesis. He couldn’t rely on doing it right when he was trying something for the first time. He shivered at the thought of the penalty, the head pain that cursed him afterward, but this time, just as soon as he was a little stronger, he was going to practice.

  Mark and Isaac had a serious talk with him one day, asking just how he planned to survive outside. He had no money, his sight was too poor to get a job, and he needed expert care on a regular basis, whenever he was sick. He would either starve to death, or die under a bush somewhere when he went down to the pain. John said they were obviously quite right, they looked after him very well when he was sick, and he’d try and be more content. Isaac smiled at him with surprised relief. Mark looked at him with a great deal of suspicion.

  Later, in bed, Clare probed for his real feelings, but her serious questions about his feelings were evaded, as they usually were. She asked him instead, what he thought he’d been in life before the amnesia, and he laughed and said it was obviously not a barber. She tried asking him what he thought his skills might be, as old knowledge and some old skills had obviously been retained.

  John cocked his head, looked at her half teasing, and said that he thought he’d been a professional surfer, as he’d watched a film of surfers, and he knew just when to catch the wave. Whether or not he was serious, the surfing world was checked for mysteriously missing young men, who might have had long hair.

  John was surprised that his movements hadn’t been limited. Instead, his freedom was increased a little. He was allowed to the store, where small items such as combs and shampoo, as well as confectionary could be purchased. He was never allowed any money, but it seemed he had credit. His guards had power of veto over any purchases, and things like scissors, pocket knives and green T-shirts were not allowed. They did let him buy a small backpack, though, which surprised him.

  There was a library, too, and he went in one day, Zack with him, Bob and Timothy taking up position outside. It was only Zack who saw him fondle the books and even take one out. He touched the pages gently, as if with affection, but he was holding the book upside down. He put it back, but later asked Isaac if he could try glasses again. This time, he didn’t just have a stab of pain, he fell to his knees, momentarily blacking out.

  They tried encouraging him again to attend the Sunday church services, but didn’t compel him. Father Herley was prompted by General Buller, and obediently volunteered to see him alone in order to give him spiritual comfort. John politely declined, saying to his guards after that he couldn’t think of anything worse than listening to an ignorant man try to offer ‘spiritual comfort.’ Timothy was shocked, being religious himself. Clare probed later, and discovered that he did indeed seem familiar with the basic tenets of the Christian faith, even though indifferent.

  He was letting his hair grow longer again, although it had been trimmed a little more evenly. When questioned, he said that it had always been long, that it seemed right like that. He thought that he could always cut it again if he wanted to look more ordinary, though he didn’t say that.

  He fully expected to be stopped the day he was strong enough again to leap to the lowest tree branch of his favorite tree. But his guards only looked at each other and let him go. He didn’t notice that Rudy was keeping a close watch on something small in his hand. The baby birds were trying to muster courage for their first flight, and John watched and felt, half seeing, half simply knowing their presence. He felt more at home surrounded by the friendly strength of his tree than he ever did indoors.

  Quite suddenly, a few days later, it seemed that strength came flowing back, and he took advantage of the guards’ leniency to leave his tree, out of sight in the heavy foliage, and make his way to a vantage point where he could watch the soldiers at target practice. Then he perched and waited. He knew the soldiers’ presence, and images would come to him suddenly, clearly, and then die away again. Patiently, he waited. His vision had always been like this, and he accepted it as normal for him, though Isaac was beginning to guess at the reality, that he borrowed images from other minds for his own use.

  The red shirt was left in the other tree, though he didn’t expect his guards to still be fooled by that trick. But he felt, looked down, and saw Rudy just underneath his tree. Looking through the leaves, he saw that the two others were also close. He frowned and felt for cameras. The tree was friendly, and he thought he could feel if there was a camera attached. He was sure no-one was looking at him. Silently, he moved away. His guards followed, and again, he was sure that no camera looked at him, and he should have been invisible. He sat a while, watching.

  Rudy, far below him, make a grinning comment to Bob, and suddenly he saw an image of a blinking dot on a gridded map. He knew now; he was marked, probably in his clothing. He made a test, stripping off every stitch of clothing while in one tree, and then moving away, waiting. The guards consulted their devices, and followed. Slowly, scarcely believing, he felt over his body. Not in his clothing, in himself. Almost automatically, he returned to the first tree and dressed. It was too bad for tears but tears wet his face anyway. How could he escape now? Recklessly, angrily, he focused his gaze on a single dead tree a hundred yards away, and after a while, it crashed to the ground, to the sudden alarm of his guards. John felt a brief satisfaction.

  Maybe he could feel the intrusive thing inside him, and then make it vanish. And maybe he’d wreck himself if he tried that. His power didn’t always work, and there had been times when he’d tried to make something vanish, and something next to it vanished instead. And, anyway, if it stopped working, the bastards might just replace it. Or maybe just cut their losses and decide it was time for the dissection. Once, in the night, it had occurred to him that they might try things while he was rendered helpless - vivisection, but that dark thought was put away. Mark and Isaac wouldn’t do that to him, surely. On the other hand, he would not have expected them to do this to him, either.

  Not trying to hide, and quite swiftly, he made his way through the treetops toward the fence, sometimes swinging from boughs, more often climbing, knowing as if by instinct which branches would support his weight. He finally dropped too heavily to the ground and rolled, before walking as hard as he could around the perimeter fence, not taking any notice of his guards, hurriedly following.

  Later, in the gymnasium, he viciously attacked the punching bag, and when a laughing pair of soldiers pulled Hank toward him, saying that Hank was ready for his fight now, he said that right now he was far too dangerous and Hank might get killed. He was not joking, and they looked at his face and backed off.

  His guards had been tickled pink with their RABs, a little jocular - John wouldn’t be able to outwit them now. John didn’t think he’d be able to outwit them, either, but he didn’t think it funny. To him, it was deadly serious. They stayed only as close as they needed to be that day.

  When the shift changed, there were some quiet words, and the new shift was warned. John didn’t even go and see Clare, although he never, normally, missed a day. He had his evening meal in the staff dining room, as always, but picked at his meal and sat at a table alone. Jimmy started to approach him, but Rudy intervened, shaking his head at him.

  It was still light outside afterward in the warm Summer evening, but John always had to return to his room straight after dinner to be locked in for the night. This time, he hesitated, standing staring out over the Compound. What if he simply refused to go? They’d hit him with the stun gun or something, he supposed.

  They stood around, waiting, fingers crossed. He started trembling, wishing desperately for escape, unable to do anything about it. Even now, he was on camera, and Mark watched, prep
ared for a crisis. It was unfortunate that Clare had left for the night. Mark suspected she might be the only one who could handle him now without brute force. He was sure he knew the problem, having watched film and heard the reports. John knew now that he was marked, and was not taking the knowledge easily. Rudy’s zoster vibrated. A warning to the guards from the men whom John never saw - the subject was very tense. Avoid confrontation if at all possible.

  John felt himself quite unable to submit to being locked up that night. For more minutes, he just stood, trembling. His guards waited. Zack wasn’t on duty, but broke the deadlock, arriving casually, a film in hand, going straight to his friend and taking his arm. He asked if he could come and watch the latest Nick Kingsley film with him. John looked at his friend as if he scarcely saw him, and then nodded, to everyone’s profound relief.

  Zack stayed with him for most of the evening. John just sat, staring blindly at the film when Zack put it on. Afterwards, when John made no moves to go to bed, he quietly put on another one. “Do you want me to go?” he asked. But John shook his head. There was such a pain within him, and he thought he might explode with it if left to himself.

  “You’ll be able to go riding tomorrow,” Zack mentioned. “Adam’s still off sick, but this time they’ve found someone to take his place.”

  John nodded. “Riding helps.”

  Zack finally rose, touched him briefly on the shoulder, and left. There were four guards at his door that night, rather than the usual two.

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