The Escapist (18 page)

“This way!  The Maere, it’s near now.  I can sense it,” Vergil urged Oscar on, hurrying through an increasingly bright series of rooms until they burst out into the coal loading yards behind the electrostation.  Here, heaps of coal rock lined the horizon and trains chugged to and fro around the loading bays, their innumerable carriages holding heavy loads.  Oscar paused only for a moment to take all this in before he noticed the blur of orange again.  Before he could give chase, Vergil appeared on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Wait Oscar, Edmund’s Maere is close.  This could be dangerous.”

Oscar looked sideways at the rat, impatient to get to Josie now that they had finally caught up.

“Well then, what would you suggest?” he asked. 

“Come, this way.” Vergil led the way over to the far side of the yard so that they approached the orange, cat shaped blur on the flank; the railway acting as a protective barrier between the two.  As the carriages rumbled past Oscar caught snippets of the scene through the gaps in between them.  The brief glimpses of Josie in between carriages were getting clearer and clearer, but the image was somehow wrong.  The cat had lost all her glow; a paler shadow of what she was before. 

Yet her subdued appearance wasn’t the worst of it.  The cat squirmed and wriggled, constantly moving so that she was difficult to see properly and it was a while before Oscar realised with horror that she was being assaulted.  Though she struggled against it she was coerced along by the very same toys Oscar had seen at the Institute during his first encounter in Etiainheim.  A little tin soldier poked the cat with a bayonet while she was being dragged along by a scruffy stuffed bear and a toy train.  The bear had lassoed the cat’s tail using a doll’s pull cord and held onto the train to tug them along.  Other toys surrounded them too, pulling and pushing the poor Itse, which mewed in pain.  

The strangest thing about the scene though was the way in which the toys approached their task.  Although they were aggressively dragging the cat along, not all seemed to want a part of it.  Some were constantly looking around as though seeking approval for their actions, whilst others were positively reluctant to be involved.  A few darted forward to tug at the cat, before retreating within seconds and circling the group uncertainly.   Further still, the toys were themselves in worse condition than they had been at the Institute.  All were grey and broken, showing signs of deterioration and neglect.  Yet despite all this they were slowly managing to drag the cat further and further out of sight.

“Quick Vergil, there’s no time to waste.” Oscar had seen enough and now made a break for it, darting out between the carriages and toward the pack of toys.  Yet it seemed there was something he had not anticipated, for Vergil urgently cried out to the boy as he sprinted away.

“Duck, Oscar.” Vergil commanded with all his authority. 

Without question the boy fell to the floor, lying flat on his stomach just in the nick of time.  A pair of razor sharp talons sailed overhead, just brushing his hair as they passed.  It seemed the vultures had followed them; like a pack of blood hounds they had never lost the sight of the boy and the rat, just bided their time, readying for attack.  The vultures landed between Oscar and the cat, touching down heavily.  There were five of them and together they formed a grotesque feathered wall, the stench of carrion forming a first line of assault.  Climbing to his feet Oscar’s mind raced, searching rapidly for a means of attack or escape. 

The vultures eyed Oscar hungrily, stepping forth in unison and shrieking with gaping beaks.  Yet at the same moment another noise interrupted the ear splitting harmony: the clang of metal on stone.  From behind a carriage next to the birds a rusty knight emerged.  On one arm he carried a solid iron shield, but the other arm hung limply from a couple of rusted metal links so that it could not wield the sword which sat uselessly in its scabbard on one side.  Despite the clear disability the knight stood before the vultures, his shield held out in a defensive stance.  As Oscar watched, the knight strode forward, a rusted figure unerringly marching to engage the committee.  The birds ruffled their feathers in anticipation, clicking their beaks and readying for attack.   When the clash finally came, talons scraped at the iron and the knight flailed his shield, battering away each coming assault. 

“Superb Sir!” Vergil, cried to the newcomer, seemingly overcome with emotion at the brave intervention.  “Give ‘em what for.”
He glanced back at Oscar and waved him on.  “Now Oscar, make a run for it. Quick, while the birds are distracted.”

Oscar hesitated a moment, feeling a need to assist this lone champion.  He was reluctant to flee, yet in his heart he knew he could do little to help.  He certainly couldn’t afford to waste the distraction, so making up his mind Oscar pressed on toward the cat and the toys.   He reached them in moments, stretching his hand out to grab the bear that had entangled the cat in cord.  Yet as his hand touched the bear’s fur, a spark jumped at him, racing through his fingertips and up into his head.  He was bombarded by a flurry of images of the real world Institute, seen through the eyes of a child and accompanied by a mixture of intense sadness and pain interspersed with glimmers of joy.  It was as though Oscar were suddenly drenched in the emotion and memories of another life.  He recoiled instantly, shaking his head to dislodge the stranger’s thoughts.

“You must steel yourself against their thoughts and try to force them out of your mind.” Vergil shouted, appearing in a sudden puff of smoke and diving into the fray.  Between them Oscar and Vergil began to turn the tide, tearing the toys away from the cat and driving them away.  Indeed Vergil was so engrossed in beating the hordes of toys back that he had failed to notice the cat’s desperate mewing and attempts to flare in colour. 

Seeing the change and fearing the worst Oscar cried out a warning to Vergil, but it went unheeded.  Fighting a rising panic, he shouted again, louder, but knew they had to move.  The cat was flaring more wildly now suggesting they had little time before the inevitable attack.  Crying out to Vergil a final time, Oscar scooped up the cat and with strength of will turned away from the still brawling rat and the pack of toys, retreating as far away from the scene as he could.  Looking back he saw Vergil had not followed.  He was in danger, but it was too late to do anything more.  Oscar could only watch. 

The Maere that was Edmund’s soul had grown immensely since they had seen it last.  It now stalked through the electroplant on its hind legs, standing at what would be head height for a grown man.  Despite the now anthropomorphised body, it was still just as grotesque –perhaps worse.  Pustules covered the diseased body which stank of rot and decay, and the sinister canine face giggled uncontrollably like a hyena.  Strings of saliva hung from the yellowed teeth as the dark, beady eyes focused on the rat just metres away.

Moving faster than Oscar had thought possible for a creature so large, the Maere bounded  forward and swiped at the group before rising triumphantly back onto its hind legs.  In one clawed paw it held Vergil.  Oscar watched in horror as the rat struggled against the beast’s will, seemingly failing to teleport out of its clutches.  Nonethless, tendrils of blue mist escaped from around the rodent, entwining themselves around the beast’s limbs in an attempt to fight back.  For a moment it appeared to be working and the beast furrowed his brows with a concentrated effort to withstand the attack.  Frozen in this position for several seconds it was not clear which of the two would gain the upper hand.  Then in one swift movement - and to Oscar’s lingering disbelief - the Maere lifted the rat to his mouth and in a sudden crunch bit down upon the small body, throwing it limply to one side.

The rat landed with a dull thud and did not move thereafter.   Oscar found himself welling with tears but with an effort stayed them off.  Instead he clenched his fists defiantly and turned towards the black beast, who still giggled maniacally.  The cat backed away in fear and tried to hide behind Oscar's legs.  Glancing down at her, Oscar was surprised to see his legs appeared thicker than normal and had taken on a greyish hue. In surprise he inspected his other limbs: his arms too were also whitish-grey and showed a mottled appearance.  As Oscar flexed his hands they felt stiff but somehow strong.  Cracks appeared at the joints and the boy realised with a surge of hope that - like the golem he had seen in the electrostation - he too was made of stone.  Filled now with a sense of his own power, Oscar readied himself to fight.

Charging forward, Oscar dived at the black beast, stony fists held forth.  Though it was slightly more cumbersome then he would have liked, the timing was well judged.  The impact knocked the black dog back causing it to topple over its hind legs.  Yet the connection Oscar had made in the process had a secondary effect, causing another stream of memories to flood his consciousness.   This time they were worse: painful, tortured, and utterly devoid of hope.  Though Oscar tried to dislodge the joyless scenes that flickered in front of his eyes, one image in particular stuck; a shadowy silhouetted man with glowing white eyes.  It grasped at Oscar repeatedly in between other scenes and though he focused on others, it was that which kept returning.  Try as he might Oscar could not control the images nor force them out.  He was effectively blinded, unable to see or hear where the next attack was coming from and weakening with the effort of resisting the bombardment.  Eventually the boy yielded, crying out in defeat as he fell to his knees and the images finally dispersed. 

Looking to the Maere and the next attack, Oscar was surprised to see that it too had not moved in the interim.  Sadly the reprieve was short lived.  The Maere growled through savage teeth and readied itself to pounce.  With a start Oscar realised his stone armour had faded and he was defenceless once again.  In that moment the dog leapt into the air, descending with inevitable doom so that Oscar could only hold up his arm instinctively in a feeble attempt to block.  To his surprise the blow was parried: his instincts had saved him again, his arm miraculously now formed of hardened steel strong enough to defend the attack.  Even so, he was trapped.  The dog now pinned him to the ground snapping constantly whilst Oscar fended off the attack as best he could.  Worse still, each successive blow brought more memories that shook Oscar's mind uncontrollably.

Panicked now and pinned to the floor, Oscar looked around desperately for escape but the images assaulting his mind now blurred with the reality of Etiainheim until he could no longer tell the difference.  He saw Vergil's limp rat body, lifeless.
Flash
.  He saw a child back at the Institute crying, surrounded by a group of boys. 
Flash
.  IN the rat’s place lay the body of a young man dressed in military attire.
Flash
.   He saw a soldier beating a woman, while a boy cried out.   Now a glowing orange cat viciously pawing at enclosing toys.  A black dog unrelentingly snapping at his metal arm.  A cottage in a clearing on fire while artillery shells exploded overhead.  A flock of birds surrounding a knight, who kneeled down on one knee.  The silhouetted shadow of the man with glowing eyes. 
Flash
.  His own image defiantly shouting, fists clenched and drawing ever nearer.  A sense of fear, of hope, of despair and then…nothing.

Chapter 16

An itchy bed and the musty smell of old fabrics was all it took for Oscar to realise with a wave of despair where he must be.  His eyelids stiff like leather, he gradually prised them apart to admit a veritable flood of light that forced him to turn his head.  Judging by the brightness of the room it was early morning.  Lifting himself up slightly in bed he felt as though he had come out of a long sleep.  In fact he found it incredible to believe that his most recent memory ought really to be of chasing a rat into a store cupboard in the middle of the night.

Turning his attention back to the room, Oscar looked around.  It was the same one in which he had recovered from his fall in the pond, although today the door was slightly ajar.  Glancing across the corridor Oscar could just see a pair of feet protruding from a bed in the neighbouring room.  Before he had time to ponder this, his view was blocked by the large, rounded form of Matron McKay as she exited the room, closing the door behind her.  Quick as a shot Oscar collapsed back into the bed and feigned sleep as she made her way across the corridor and entered the room.

“Geet up, Oscar.”  The woman said in her thick dialect.  “I saw yer peeking through.”  Cursing that he had not quite been quick enough, Oscar opened his eyes to the sight of the round woman.

“Tha's rite, the Matron Clarke, will be wantin’ te see yer.” And with that the matron strode out of the room in search of her superior. 

Oscar remained where he was, completely stunned.  What had just happened?  How could he be back here again - and now – at the most crucial of times?  He needed to get back to Etiainheim, to Vergil and Josie and the toys being dragged away.  There was no time to lose.  In a bizarre way, he wished he were paralysed in bed like before, knowing he would only have to wait it out until he would return to the soul world. 

Filled with a resolve to do something he still could not even begin to explain, Oscar leapt from the bed.  He felt sluggish but his body had had considerable rest, so his vigour rapidly returned.  As he peered in each direction so as not to be spotted, he was struck by a sudden curiosity: who was the other room’s occupant?  Quickly crossing the corridor and opening the door he was shocked to see it was the Master who lay in the other bed, unconscious.  Not only that, but a mechanical bellows hissed regularly, pumping air through a rubber hose to the Master’s mouth.   The old man looked vulnerable, a characteristic which Oscar had never before seen in him, nor expected to see, even allowing for his increasing age.  His frail body lay pale on the bed and the sheets draped from him as though he were just bones.  But it was the laboured breathing that filled the room which was most unsettling and Oscar realised with a shock that the man was fighting for his life.

At that moment Oscar became aware of distant footsteps at the far end of the corridor, heralding the approach of the Head Matron.  Moving quickly he darted back to his room just moments before she rounded the corridor and burst through the door.

“Had a nice sleep did we?” Matron Clarke asked rhetorically.  “You’re in a lot of trouble boy, snooping around in the middle of the night.  But lucky for you, right now we’re busy so your punishment will have to be postponed.  Oh, don’t look so pleased though, it just gives me more time to formulate a punishment most fitting to the crime.  I may not know what you were up to but I’ll find out, don’t you worry about that.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Oscar replied automatically, his mind distracted.  He was so preoccupied with worries of Etiainheim that the threats of real world punishment were failing to have the desired effect.  Unfortunately his lack of attention was rubbing the Head Matron up the wrong way.

“Well boy what is it?” she snapped.

Oscar looked up at her as though seeing her for the first time.  She was clearly angry and questions now might be inadvisable.  But he had to know what had happened. 

“Err well, what happened to the Master?” Oscar asked meekly.

“More snooping!
” she barked, but continued talking nonetheless. “Not that it’s any of your business, but the Master has been taken ill.  Heart problems it seems.  Well, that’s nature’s way of telling an old man to give up, quit the Institute.  He’s not much use and quite frankly just gets in the way.  About time he got a warning, I’d say.” 

Oscar’s looked at her stunned as she gave him a taunting smile, to all appearances taking pleasure from the boy’s distress.

“Well anyway, the doctor will be in later to look at him.  If the man stays long enough I’ll have him check you over too.  You have been out a while I suppose.  Other than that, you missed breakfast so you best go and change into your day clothes and make your way straight to the workshop.” Oscar looked around in disbelief, but the Matron just stared at him.

“Well what are you waiting for?   Get out of my sight.”

Stopping by the empty dormitory Oscar changed quickly before making his way to the workshop.  He barely noticing that his few meagre possessions, except his clothes, had been stolen - presumably by Edmund.  He was stunned, completely blind-sided by the turn of fate.  With Vergil -in Etiainheim- it had seemed that he could change things but here he was stuck in the same old rut.  If anything he was worse off now than he had been before.

He walked mindlessly into the workshop, apologised to the matron and headed for an available workbench.  The other children barely stirred at the interruption.  They were repairing old service rifles -resetting the stocks and straightening the barrels- and all too easily Oscar fell back into the soul destroying routine.  Though he knew he was back in the real world, it now felt overwhelmingly surreal, as if at any moment he would snap to and be back in Etiainheim.  It was so defeating and he felt as though the distance he had journeyed there, the assortment of encounters he had had, were all for nothing. 

As he reached for a rifle, Oscar paused and looked around the room.  Rows of children sat silently, heads bowed in submission as they fixed the old rifles; the hollow clang of the hammering on metal counting off the seconds of the day.  Twisting around in his seat, Oscar scoured the room for Edmund but could not see him.  A squawk from the matron soon interrupted his search and he returned his gaze quickly back to the work in front of him.  In truth the squawk had shaken him, and looking up he half expected to see the bald head of a vulture rather than the neat, middle aged matron that presided over the group.  It was yet another reminder of what was at stake and he knew he must get back.  But how? 

All the times he had crossed between worlds so far it was never of his own accord; he wouldn’t even know where to start.  For the moment at least his bigger priority was to escape the attention of the matrons, and the best way to do that would be to leave the Institute.   So thinking, he slipped a piece of bent steel rod into his pocket, to make up for the ones he had stored away which had gone missing.  If he could just find a pick he would have all he needed to bypass the Institute locks and escape.

The afternoon passed tortuously slow, as Oscar's mind was tormented with every second spent away from Etiainheim, not knowing what had happened.  Images of Vergil in those last few moments would not leave him, and even when he closed his eyes there was nothing but the limp discarded body of the rat.  The distractions were such that Oscar realised he still didn’t even know what day it was; time had seemed to blur completely. 

After the day's toil the children retired to the canteen for their evening slop and here Oscar seized his chance to find out what had been going on.  He entered the lunchroom late, loitering as much as possible beforehand until he spotted Josie at the far end of the hall.  Walking over he shooed away a small girl seated next to her and settled himself on the bench.

“Hi Josie.”  he said as positively as he could manage.

“Oh, hey Oscar. You're alright.” The small girl noted.  Despite the apparent enthusiasm in the observation Oscar could detect a faint note of weariness in her voice.  Looking at her more closely he could already see a stark difference in Josie; the girl had lost so much of her glow over the relatively short period of time.  It was like holding up a mirror for the damage that her Itse had suffered in Etiainheim.

“Yes, I’m alright I suppose.” Oscar finally answered.  “But what about you, how are you settling in?” The question was vague, but he needed an inlet.  He had to find out what had happened here during his absence.

“Not great.  But I guess I'll get used to it.” The girl responded in a dreary voice.

Oscar looked at her sharply.  She really had lost all her fight.

“Is it Edmund?  The older boys? Don't let them get to you Josie, you have to be smart. Learn to be invisible and get along.” Oscar begrudged giving such uninspiring advice, telling her to hide, run, spend her life as a shadow, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

“I suppose.” Josie answered.  “Though it would be nice to have some friends, like at Aunt Aggie's.  The other kids here never want to play.”  Suddenly she changed tack, looking Oscar straight in the eye.  “I'm not going home, am I Oscar?”

“Look Josie.” Oscar said sternly. “I don't know what happened to your family but don't give up hope.  You might have to lock it away deep down inside so you can get by, but don't give it up.” The boy looked around the lunch room at all the other grey faces waiting listlessly for their fish slop.  They fell silent for a moment as a matron patrolled past, glaring at them as she went. 

“Anyway…” Oscar whispered in a more cheery tone “…what do you mean you don't have friends.  I'm here aren't I?”  With that, the smalls girl’s face lit up and for a second he could have sworn he saw her ginger hair gleam -albeit briefly- with a fiery glow.  Feeling much better about the conversation now that he had provoked a smile from Josie, Oscar returned back to the reason for his being there.

“Hey Josie, what happened to the Master?
” he asked in barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, apparently there was a big row with the matrons.  Mid way through he just collapsed!  At least that is what the others are saying.  I think it’s a real shame though; he was always so nice to me.  He said he would help me find a new home.”

Oscar smiled briefly, thinking back to the knight who had waded in to protect Josie from the vultures.  It was beginning to make sense now.

“Any idea as to what the row was about?
” he probed further.

“Not sure really.  Someone mentioned they heard it was about Edmund but no one really speaks about it.  One girl got punished for asking Head Matron Clarke and had to scrub the toilet floors.  Errgh!”  The girl winced dramatically whilst poking out her tongue.

As though he had been summoned, Edmund walked into the room at that moment.  Accompanied by Flynn and Gregg, he strode up to food counter rather than finding a table and rudely grabbed a bowl of stew from the woman serving it along with several bread rolls.  It was only once seated with his cronies that Edmund registered Oscar’s presence in the hall.   With a smug expression he held aloft a small badge proudly displayed on his day shirt, as though it held some deep significance. 

“Josie.” Oscar said, pretending to other onlookers as though he hadn’t noticed the confrontational gesture.  “What's that badge Edmund is wearing?”

Josie looked up quickly before bowing her head and speaking under her breath. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Matron Clarke made him a ‘Monitor’. Gave him a master key so he can wander where he likes.  Well, except out of the grounds obviously.  It’s awful, you can’t even get away from him now.”

Nodding an acknowledgement to Josie for the explanation, Oscar pondered the meaning of this fact in silence.  Surely this was going too far.  Edmund had had so much power before but now it was official and it looked like he was practically running the place. 

Though still throwing occasional glances in Edmund’s direction, Oscar turned his attention back to his food.  Having not eaten in days he might have actually said he enjoyed the meal in the canteen, if it weren't for the unease with which he found himself there.  He and Josie finished their meals in a mutual silence before parting ways, each heading to their respective dorms. 

To Oscar’s surprise none of the boys in his dormitory were using their limited free time to play.  Most just sat quietly on their beds or mumbled to each other in low voices.  Even this limited conversation dropped away as Edmund and his gang appeared in the doorway, casting an imposing shadow over the room.  Everyone who was not part of his elite fell silent and most averted their eyes as the group made their way across the room. 

To Oscar’s surprise, Edmund ignored him completely as he passed by the end of his bunk.  He wondered whether Edmund had tired of their confrontations or perhaps that he simply felt Oscar was no longer a challenger to his crown; especially with his newly acquired powers.  Either way Oscar was relieved that nothing was said between them, leaving him free to think further on how he could get back to Etiainheim.

Drawing on every ounce of his patience over the course of the evening, Oscar waited until the deep snores and gentle murmurs were suitably loud before lowering himself from his bunk.  With the practised stealth he had honed over the years, he crept across the floor to Edmund’s bunk, the cool night air heightening his senses.  He tingled with the excitement that he always got on these excursions, though this time there was so much more at stake.  Nonetheless, the experience reminded him of sneaking out to give lock picking lessons to Piggy and his heart panged that his friend was not here with him.