The Escapist (4 page)

Moving fluidly, Oscar sidestepped lightly so that the projectile barely grazed his cheek.  His eyes shot a look of victory at Edmund, only to realise too late that the manoeuvre had left his footing precariously balanced.  In a split second Oscar’s heart sunk - defeat!  A vicious smile had erupted from Edmund, as he gleefully selected a larger stone from the many he had waiting in his hand.  Oscar readied himself to try and deflect the incoming projectile but it all happened too quickly.  Catching him in the sternum the impact from the second stone was enough to compromise his footing.

Falling back, Oscar took one last gasp of breath before hitting the algae blanket.  He had expected a soft albeit rather unpleasant impact and so didn’t even have a chance to think when his head hit a protruding rock.  The pain would have been unbearable but unconsciousness swept him away before he could fully appreciate to what extent.  Without struggle the algae wrapped around him, bearing him down into the pool.  The last seconds of consciousness escaping him, he could sense nothing but the deathly silence of the enclosing water.

Chapter 4

Oscar sat up and brushed the dust off of his knees.  Looking around he could see little but the lip of dry earth that surrounded him and the pinkish grey sky above.  It must be nearly sunset he thought with a jolt.  What have I been doing all this time?  He had a feeling there was something he was supposed to remember, a thought waiting to be realised, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. 

Trying to ignore the feeling that he should be somewhere else, Oscar hauled himself to his feet, though it took all his effort to do so.   He took a few tentative steps forward to the edge of the shallow crater of earth he seemed to have been lying in, each laboured step like ten.  He stretched forward and grasped the edge of the crater to heave himself up onto the lush grass beyond.  Rolling away from the dirty crater he was overcome with a sudden sense of freedom and invigoration.  He jumped to his feet, ready to run wildly ahead and indulge the sense of exhilaration he was feeling, but the sight of his surroundings stopped him dead in his tracks.

Oscar had the strange feeling he had been in this place before, though he couldn’t quite place the scenery that met his eyes.  He had never felt such a sense of space.  In one direction the lush green grass stretched away until all he could see was a faint mist, offset by the pink of the sunset.  In another direction the lawn eventually gave way to a point in the distance where a large Gothic building imposed upon the scene.  There were outcrops of tangled plants, with hints of movement all around the lawn and outside the building – strange foliage and shapes, blending in with the scenery.   But it wasn’t so much the oddness of the landscape that disturbed Oscar, rather, it was the similarity.  There were gate railings, but these were incredibly ornate, gleaming gold in the setting sun and lavishly decorated with plant motifs of entwining metal.  The garden was wild yet the plants were utterly unfamiliar.  Climbing over every part of a distant wall and encroaching on the grassy lawn they trailed thick creepers, entwining with each other and showing flashes of colour where flowers bloomed.  This was like the garden of his imagination, a place to explore, one where perhaps there was no need for escape.

A distant figure -perhaps a small boy- moved behind the ornate railings. Oscar could not make him out clearly and before he could vocalise the words to draw the figure's attention, the boy had disappeared behind the walls.  Oscar felt a small urge in the pit of his heart pulling him toward the gates where the boy had been but his curiosity tugged him in the opposite direction to the outcrop of decorated buildings; whose buttresses and turrets tantalised him with tales of mystery and adventure.

Looking towards the buildings Oscar's mind reached out, trying to grasp onto the distant memories that evaded his advance; teased by a familiarity he could not yet fathom.  A sense of foreboding assaulted him with every step he took towards the main entrance, but he did not turn back.  The door was unlocked and creaked slightly as he passed through it.  Yet it seemed there was no one around to hear and silence soon settled back into the foyer that surrounded him. 

The main hall pulled at his hazy mind, with the central stairway seeming somehow more grandiose than the familiarity at the edge of his memory would suggest. Intricate mahogany and walnut carved balustrades mirrored the detailed exterior to the building, dusty and chipped though they were.   Oscar quickly crossed the grand hall, unsure at first of where he was heading.  But a moment before setting foot on the first step of the grand staircase at the far end, a flash of memory surfaced within his mind.  At the top would be a study and some offices, he was almost certain.  Looking expectantly towards the top balcony his eyes rested for a moment on a crystal chandelier that dominated the area.  Each of the many arms of the chandelier held wax candles, faintly burning.  They seemed to flicker yet Oscar was sure there could be no breeze up in that sheltered alcove, and the eerie glow they gave off did little to illuminate the vast space.

Oscar climbed the stairs timidly and at the top his suspicions were confirmed: a corridor passed through the top storey with small offices branching off beyond wooden doors.  Passing along the corridor and peering into each office he saw no one - only old fashioned desks, chairs and cabinets occupied the space.  Nonetheless, Oscar couldn’t help but inspect each room thoroughly in an attempt to dismiss the nagging feeling that he was missing something very important.   Finally he allowed his attention to be drawn to a large oak door that guarded the end of the corridor.

Mounted with wrought iron hinges, the door boasted importance.  Oscar ran his hands along the solid oak grain, finally trying the iron handle that would open it.  Already he had a sense that answers would be on the other side.  But the door was reluctant to give, so, bracing himself with feet set apart, Oscar applied more force.  Again the door did not yield, putting forth a defiant barrier to those too weak to best it.  Looking around to ascertain the absence of on lookers Oscar rested his shoulder against the door before bending at the knee in preparation to barge forward.  Springing with all his might he pushed down the handle as his shoulder made contact.   With a surrendering creak,   the door gave way, the noise echoing throughout the corridor.

Though he stumbled forward, Oscar remained stationary, attentive to anybody that might have been alerted to his entry.  Yet still everything remained silent and looking around Oscar was disappointed.  This was not the grand room he had hoped.  Beyond the door was little more than a superior version of the furniture in the other offices.  To one side sat a large oak desk and on the other a bookcase, filled with an array of dusty volumes.  A patterned rug covered most of the wooden expanse of floor between the two.  Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust, clearly the result of years of neglect and Oscar realised that this room had long since seen any visitors.  His feet left prints as if walking in snow and yet judging by the dust settled across the floor there had been someone else in here – there were fainter prints, less entrenched but still slightly visible suggesting the room had long fallen into disuse.

Turning around, Oscar started to make his way out of the study, only to be stopped in his tracks by an item which he had overlooked.  Behind the opened door, tucked into a corner was a crumpled and rusty set of armour.   It didn’t look like modern armour either – it wasn’t that of a soldier, more like that of the old Imperial knights, especially if the head piece was anything to go by.  The armour sat splayed on the ground giving the impression that a person had once sat in the armour in the same spot only to evaporate, leaving a metal husk behind.  Oscar couldn’t throw this thought off once it had occurred to him, and he gingerly reached out towards the visor, a thrill of fear creeping up his spine.  But alas, the armour had too long been the victim of the room and any residual moisture in the air; its joints were welded by rust so that the visor of the helmet would not shift.  The suit was sealed together in one lumped mass of metal and oxide, forever to sit exasperated on the floor.  It was out of kilter with the rest of the room, but Oscar presumed it must be an heirloom of some kind, left to fall down and gradually forgotten about so that no-one noticed or even cared of its decay. 

Paying a final cursory glance Oscar stepped out of the room.  Though he attempted to pull the door shut behind him, he was faced again by the intrinsic resistance.  After a lot of tugging and some creaking Oscar decided that some battles were not worth the effort and so he left, leaving the door slightly ajar.

The large study with the rusty armour had been a dead end to his avenue of exploration and so Oscar returned through the corridor and down the main staircase back to the entrance hall.  The overwhelming sense of familiarity was uncanny and Oscar felt more anxious as he continued his investigation.  Waves of panic washed over him the harder he tried to focus on what he had been doing before finding himself here, but he could not remember.  In the end he had to take in a deep breath and assure himself that it would come back to him in time.

Wandering around the maze of corridors that laced the ground floor, Oscar caught the scent of a strange odour.  Guided by his nose he followed the scent along the corridors.  Nearing what he expected to be the origin, the once peculiar smell evolved into an intense rotten stench.  Though he suspected this would be enough to dissuade even the most tolerant of visitors, the unbearable scent found resonance with Oscar and spurred him on to discover the source.   Coming to the end of one of the many ground hallways he soon stumbled into an area that was undeniably strange.  Standing four feet off the ground by stone pillar supports, an enormous cauldron was suspended over a roaring fire pit. The gruel within it was the cause of the stench and Oscar could see why.  Hanging precariously from the ceiling was an open pipeline containing a slurry of decomposed carcasses and rotten vegetables, which supplied the cauldron with its vile contents.  The combined visual and olfactory experience of the gruel was simply too much for Oscar - his knees buckled beneath him and he found himself fighting the urge to retch.  Crawling back towards the wall he retreated to a safe distance and assessed the scene again.

As he reflected on his surroundings Oscar became ever wary of the stone housing keeping the cauldron aloft.  The fire stoked inside seemed to have had an adverse effect on the stone and cracks were clearly visible in the housing under the strain of the cauldron and its foul contents. Should the housing give way, the contents would spill.  Even if Oscar was fortunate enough to avoid the crashing blow of the pot he would surely be boiled alive by the tide of hot reeking slop that would engulf the room.

There was a small, rickety stair case nearby that led to the rim of the cauldron which Oscar approached with caution.  Though ever more paranoid about a potential accident he stared into the swirling mass of congealed filth, musing that one could almost swim laps around the circumference of the bowl were it not for the unsavoury and boiling content it now held.  From up here he could see small wooden tables positioned around the base of the stone frame.  Upon each table were splattered marks as if the food was simply thrown down to eaters below.  The sight of the food encrusted tables stirred memories in the back of Oscar’s mind, though he could not quite place why the sight was familiar and soon brushed the feeling away.

The unsavoury mass of the cauldron’s contents seemed to keep its own momentum and swirled with a perpetual motion that suggested something unworldly.  Occasionally the stirring contents would slop out beyond the brim of the cauldron and spill over the edge, seeping into a grate below that ringed the stone housing.  His vision resting once again on the pipeline supply of rotten goods, Oscar’s tolerance for the disgusting mixture was finally exhausted.  Hastily, though with care he descended the rickety stairwell and rushed out through the main door.

Oscar’s continued exploration eventually led him to the probable sleeping quarters of the establishment, where rows upon rows of bunks stacked six or seven high stretched right across the great hall.  There were no mattresses or blankets, only steel frames and wire supports, with careless piles of what he assumed to be the resident’s belongings sitting at the foot of some beds.  Without direction he drifted across the cold concrete between the rows of towering bunks. 

As he stopped by one bunk he was surprised to feel a gentle tapping against his ankle.  Looking down he saw a broken mechanical tin soldier, its paint faded and wooden body cracked.  Bayoneted rifle in hand the little soldier repeatedly bumped at his bony foot; the lack of force and blunt edge a pathetic show for taking on a giant.  Stooping to pick it up, Oscar realised there were many scattered toys across the concrete floor: wooden toy carts with wheels missing and worn paintwork, stuffed toy animals with only single bead eyes and limbs detached, bleeding the cotton from within.  It was a sorry sight.  These toys were probably loved once and now they entertained nobody.  Setting the toy soldier down to continue his tour of the building, Oscar headed towards the end of the hall.  Careful not to tread on any toys he couldn’t help but feel an urge to gather them up and take them with him.  He identified with their sorry state, feeling somewhat lost and uncared for himself.

The lighting decreased with every step he took towards the far wall, though he could see no reason why this should be the case.  The windows in the room were all uncovered, but somehow the light streaming through those nearest to him no longer seemed to reach the far corners of the hall.  As he neared the area he began to get the sense that it wasn’t the reach of the rays of light that were the problem, rather, something at the end of the hall was absorbing the ambient illumination.  As his eyes grew used to the dim lighting he could just make out a small black form huddled in the furthest, darkest corner, though it was still too far away for Oscar to see what it was.

“Hello?”

It was the first time he had spoken in this place and his voice sounded distant, almost as though it was reaching from a point far beyond the spot where his body actually stood.  There was no response from the corner so as Oscar drew closer he repeated his greeting, his voice still but a faint echo.  Attempting to shout this time his mouth shook with the effort, but again very little noise issued forth.  Yards away, Oscar began to make out gentle sobs and whimpers as though from a distressed animal.   And, as he drew closer, he could finally make out the dark outline of a small dog-like creature; a puppy perhaps.  The small animal shook with cold, its frail body huddled in on itself for warmth, shivering inside the skin that clung to its bones.

Close enough to see the creature fully, Oscar’s stomach knotted as he looked upon the little figure.  The face was grotesque, as though the animal were disease ridden.  Boils erupted across the body and the mouth slavered with a putrid substance.   Though the creature did not appear to have seen Oscar, it seemed to sense another’s presence and within a blink of an eye the animal changed.  No longer was it the pathetic creature Oscar had pitied.  The skin about the face pulled taut and the eyes nearly bulged from the sockets, the mouth hanging open to reveal sharp fangs glistening with foul saliva.  Without warning, the creature gave off an ear piercing screech that seemed to penetrate Oscar’s head and reverberate throughout his body, stabbing at his heart.