The Clutter Box

Chapter 16

  Walking towards the door, I could hear the guards outside, chatting. The room had no windows and no obvious means of escape.

  I looked at the large foam panels that formed the ceiling. I’d seen electricians poking about in the ceiling cavities, above panels like this, elsewhere in the facility. Climbing onto the desk, I pushed one of them upwards. Sure enough, there was a reasonable amount of room above; enough for a person like me to crawl into. I wondered if I could get to a neighbouring room this way, but no, the walls, rose all the way into the cavity, completely separating the rooms.

  If I hid up there, it would be the first place they’d look. I needed a better plan.

  I walked back to the door, clutched the cold metal handle in my palm, and turned it. To my surprise it wasn’t locked and the door swung open.

  Two tall guards stood outside. They turned and looked at me, as if I was crazy, then one reached forwards and shut the door. I heard them laughing to each other, followed by the sound of a key sliding into the lock and turning.

  I had a good laugh when it came to my escape. I’m surprised it worked as well as it did. I took a panel down from the ceiling, and knocked over the desk. On hearing the noise the guards came to investigate. I hid behind the door.

  The key turned and the door opened. I heard the guards gasp as they saw the ceiling. They both ran in to the centre of the room, looking up. Then they looked back in horror at the door, to see me closing it with a big smile on my face. They’d left the key in the door. *Click*

  I couldn’t escape the building, I didn’t plan to. I just wanted to find a working phone and call Dr Thorn. I glanced into various rooms as I rushed through the corridor. Some had people in, some were locked. There, in an office, was a phone. No sign of life.

  I rushed in, shutting the door behind me. I picked up the phone, it was connected. I’d memorised Dr Thorn's number, and crouched behind the desk, as I dialed it. I didn’t want to be in plain view, in case anyone peered through the door, looking for me. I imagined there’d be quite a commotion when my escape was discovered.

  She answered, “Hello?”

  “Adrian Ward’s locked me up in the psi-clinic. I managed to get away to make this phone call, but I’m trapped on the site.” I felt myself babbling my word’s as I frantically tried to explain, “He thinks you’re up to something, he’s blaming you for Bruce’s death.”

  There was a pause as I waited for her response.

  She spoke quietly, “Ok, I have someone on the site. He can smuggle you out. I’m putting a lot of trust in you Ernum. I hope you appreciate this.”

  “Who?”

  “Carl Ferns, he works for me.”

  “Carl Ferns, the guard from the main building, he’s a spy!”

  “Of course not, he get’s a little extra pay to do the odd task for me. Making sure things that are meant to be done get done. Merely an addition to his job description; it’s all above board. The staff at your site seem to huddle together, unwilling to cooperate. I blame the culture that the telepaths encourage.”

  “But he’ll help me escape?”

  “Your imprisonment is just a product of Adrian Ward’s ego trip. Nothing more. Can you get to the carpark?”

  “I don’t think I could get out of the psi-clinic. I’m hiding in room 21a.”

  “Stay put, I’ll get him to collect you.”

  I waited on hold for a minute. She came back and said, “He’s on his way now.”

  I said, “Someone told me Bruce was really his intestinal brain.”

  Dr Thorn replied, “Who told you that?”

  I was silent.

  “Bruce in a very real sense was his intestines. His brain never fully developed, and his intestines took over his cognitive thought processes. Did Ward tell you this? I knew he was spying on us.”

  “That’s amazing.” I said, struggling to believe what she’d just confirmed.

  “Yes, we’ve known for some time. Bruce came to see us for help shortly after his wife died. A remarkable specimen. The things we learned. It’s a shame we weren’t able to help him in the end.

  We hid key facts from him, concerned that he might react badly, but he started to figure it out for himself. Our hope was that if we could repair some functionality to his brain - ease the load on the intestines - he could focus on being an intestine, even a fully cognitive intestine. That way he might have been able to achieve some peace of mind. Not to mention revolutionise the way we see and interact with telepathy.”

  “Ward thinks the intestine was switched.”

  “I can’t talk safely on this phone. It was stolen. We can’t have our work opened up to investigation, not yet.”

  “Maybe Adrian Ward stole him and put him in a new body.”

  “Anything’s possible, he’d love to steal our credit, but don’t start getting any crazy ideas. I don’t want you getting in trouble. I’m trying to find out everything I can.”

  “Adrian Ward wants run tests on me. Maybe it’s to see if I’m suitable to receive Bruce’s intestines as a transplant.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Lets not let our imagination run away with us. We can only speculate at this time. Although, if he did steal Bruce and then the planned donor’s body started to rejecting him, perhaps he could become that desperate. Just focus on getting out of there safely, I’ll make sure everythings alright. You’re working for me now.”

  At that point the door opened. It was Carl Ferns. I could hear voices behind him, from the corridor. The frantic search for me.

  Carl whispered my name and waved me over. He had supply trolley with him and a large black nylon bag. His plan was clear, I rushed forwards and he helped me into the bag. The trolley had a metal frame with a compartment underneath and a set of trays on top.

  From within the unfastened bag, I helped maneuver myself onto the bottom of the trolley. He then zipped the bag up and told me to be still. I heard him groan as he struggled to push me along.

  We passed voices, saying, “He must be around here somewhere.” I don’t know how close I came to being caught, or what risk Carl was taking. What trouble could he face, should we be caught? I could sense when we were outside. The light and fresh air hit me from through the fabric.

  “I’m going to load you onto a van. It should be leaving any minute now. Once you’re clear of the facility they can’t touch you,” whispered Carl, through the side of the bag.

  He heaved me upwards and onto a hard surface, then slid the bag backwards. After, he unzipped the bag; just enough for me see. I could make out the metal of the vans interior.

  Carl left, closing the door behind him. I imagined his relief now his part was over, but I was left waiting and worrying. What if the van was searched? That would make sense, there was an escaped prisoner, after all. I felt so trapped - confined.

  There was a couple of boxes behind me. I could hide behind them, I thought. Anything seemed better than being zipped up helpless in a bag. I pushed the zip down and stretched my legs. My body slipped out and across the floor; my joints aching. Before I got a chance to change my mind, I heard someone get into the front of the van and start the engine.

  I rushed behind the boxes, and began to wish I’d stuck with the plan. I tried to drape the bag over me for greater concealment. On the side of the vehicle was a sliding door. If opened I’d be on full view. This was all going wrong. We got to the gate and I heard it open, then the van began to move forward.

  Just as I thought myself clear I heard Adrian Ward’s voice shouting out, “Check the van.”

  The van came to a halt, and I heard people moving by the rear doors.

  As they opened the door, I sprung from my hiding place and pushed open the side door. They shouted, “Hey,” to me, as I jumped from the van and ran through the open gates.

  The guards only had authority on the grounds. They stood there and watched me walk away.

  Adrian Ward ran through the gate. “Stop him!” he shouted. The guards didn?
??t move. “We’ll call the police,” said one.

  “No, no police.” shouted Ward.

  He ran up to me and grabbed me by my arms and attempted to pull me back.

  “Get him back,” he yelled.

  The guards stirred uncomfortably, but then seemed to march forwards. I shoved Ward to the ground and began to run as fast as I could. I heard the guards behind me. I focused on my speed, never looking back. I think the adrenalin must have given me an edge.

  When I finally stopped, my pursuers had long given up. My head was buzzing and I started to fear that they’d catch me by car.

  I’d have to get off the road.