The Escapist (14 page)

Turning away from them, the young woman reached out to grasp one of the lower branches of the tree nearby.  With a quick movement she swung herself up onto it, climbing nimbly from limb to limb until she balanced on one of the uppermost branches of the tree.

“If you wish to follow the Maere, head north of the clearing.” Tapie called down, pointing towards a bright star in the distance.  “Several moons ago the Maere you seek came past here, his victims in tow.  The forest has yet to recover - there is a trail of decay that you should easily be able to follow.  I wish you luck.”  She gazed down at Oscar, who was considering her thoughtfully.

“I suppose if we meet again in my world, it might seem like a dream to you.” Oscar suggested suddenly.  “Doesn’t it frustrate you to have your mind trapped here all alone like this?”

“It is not trapped Oscar, though yes, I am alone.  I cannot communicate with the Itse but I can observe them at least.  And as long as I can gaze at the heavens above, I know I am free.”  With that Tapie sank down onto her branch and sat silently, her eyes glistening in the moonlight as she gazed at the stars above.

After a moment Vergil nudged Oscar, ushering him on.  Setting off northwards as Tapie had suggested, they came to the edge of the clearing.  Here the path the Maere had taken was obvious; the grass was wilted and yellowed and petals had fallen from the stems of flowers.  Even the vines and branches of shrubs and trees retracted in fear, as though the life had been drained where the dark soul had passed.  Vergil skipped to and fro, careful to walk outside the path of decay, complaining that the scent of evil was too fresh.

The path once again led into the forest, though here the trees were sparser and the stars glittered through the gaps in the canopy overhead.  The trio pushed on into the night and Oscar spent the time considering what he had learnt from Tapie.  The soul world, Etia
inheim.  It was all so exciting, having seen things that few other human beings ever would.  In fact, it was the first time since running from the Institute that he had felt alive. 

Gradually the trio drew closer to one another and eventually began to speak.  What with the excitement of meeting Tapie and all the new explanations about the world in which he now found himself, Oscar had almost forgotten his previous encounter with the vines.  Enthusiastically he recounted to Vergil how he had so fantastically made his escape.  The rat was appropriately impressed by his ingenuity and Oscar's skill in manipulating his environment, especially given he had been in Etiainheim for a only a relatively short time. 

“Mind over matter.” The rat summed up.  “That’s right”.

Though the conversation was engaging, Oscar began to realise just how fatigued he had become.  Stumbling for the umpteenth time, he could not help but draw Vergil’s attention, and the rat scurried over to him in concern.  Pausing at the base of a large tree, Oscar voiced the question that had been forming in his mind.

“I don't understand, Vergil.  How is it that I should feel tired even though my body is elsewhere?” he asked.

“Ah an excuse for a break I see.  Well, I suppose the rest could be afforded.” The rat motioned the group to rest against a tree, before explaining. “You see Oscar, the mind and soul are just as susceptible to fatigue as the body.  You have had hectic arrival and no doubt the worst is yet to come.  Maybe you should rest a while and allow yourself to regain some strength.”

As Oscar leaned against the tree with the cat curled on his lap, he thought back once more to the moment with the vines.  Focusing as intently as his drowsy mind allowed, he tried again to change his body to the elastic state he had taken on before.  But this time he simply could not summon the energy and finally succumbed to the immense fatigue.  His lids drooped as if small weight were tied at the ends and within moments he was fast asleep.

Chapter 11

Oscar awoke to a familiar musty smell but the stale air that filled his nostrils was of no comfort to him.  This was quite different to the layered pine aromas of the forest that had lulled him so gently to sleep.  Fearing the worst, he attempted to open his eyes but found he could not.  He anxiously tried to put a hand to his face, but his limbs would not respond.  In fact he could not move a single muscle and remained a prisoner within his own body.  Panic bubbled up inside of him, filling the hollow cavity of his being. But without the ability to vent his frustration, the unease continued to rise, pulling him down, suffocating him.

Oscar's mind raced as he searched for an explanation.  Had he been attacked in his sleep?  Worse still, could he be dead?  But surely not – after all, he had no memory of an ambush.  It seemed that maybe his body or mind was betraying him and he could not help but wonder whether all that exertion in manipulating his body to escape the vines had somehow caused him to seize up completely.  Tormented by imaginings, Oscar could only lie and wait in the deadly quiet.  Staring at the back of his eyelids, the time dissolved away and he struggled to keep his head above the tides of anxiety that threatened to overcome him.

In a forced reflection he began to doubt the events that had just passed.  Maybe it was the product of his imagination, his longing for escape from the Institute, but Etiainheim had seemed so much more than that.  So real in fact, he doubted he had the ability to generate such a fantastical world.  All he knew was he had to get back there.  Caught between despair and hope, he felt a gentle warmth grow over his body as though he were bathed in sunlight.  Sure enough the swirling patterns in his eyelids slowly became suffused with an amber glow.  He could faintly detect the tweeting of birds far in the distance, ushering in a new morning.

Gradually though, the truth began to dawn on him.  He wasn't in Etiainheim at all   No wonder the musty air here smelt familiar and carried with it an inevitable sense of depression.  The itchy feel of the bedding surrounding him made him sure.  He was back at the Institute infirmary, though maybe he had been all along.  Oscar's thoughts bounced back and forth until he heard the sound of the door being opened. Slowly, steps approached the bed, shuffling a little as they drew near.  Oscar mentally braced, wondering who now loomed over him blocking the rays of the heat.  After a brief pause the intruder let out a sigh and Oscar felt a hardened and wrinkled hand pat his arm.

“You don't seem to be having the best of luck old chap.” The Master -for clearly it was he- grumbled in a low voice. “But stick in there.”  The man spoke with a softness that Oscar had never heard in him before.  A creaking of springs indicated he had just sunk into a bedside chair, another sigh escaping as he reclined.  Oscar waited for something more but this time when he spoke it did not seem to be directed at the Oscar.  Rather, it sounded like the ramblings of an old man, alone in his room.

“I realise I have never engaged with you children.  I always thought a good male role model should remain strong but distant, like men were when I was a boy.” he paused.  “At first it worked.  But the matrons were good back then - more like surrogate mothers providing the gentle touch that I couldn't offer.  With a handful of children under my guide, it was like a family.  An Institute worthy of the hospital it had replaced.  Why, I wouldn't have put my name to it otherwise! But alas, it did not last...”

The Master paused as though despairing, before continuing his reflections.

“The war ravaged on.  There were quiet periods when we had almost forgotten about it and the world seem normal or peaceful, but the war was always on.  Always on and always taking, slowly chipping away at us.  The number of orphans grew – no wonder really - and so we took on more children.”

The voice trailed off for longer this time, seemingly lost in thought.  When it spoke again, it was as though in defence.

“Well we couldn't just turn them away.  But it took it's toll.  Each new child brought their own pain and suffering and we struggled to stay afloat.  In more ways than one in fact.  Resources were stretched and as the War Ministry and Government cut funding …. well
everyone must do their bit
.  Ha!  All part of the big machine eh?”

“And so we turned the classrooms into workshops.  Instead of learning, children repair helmets and rifles, weaving themselves into a war that will never end.  These are sad times old chap.  And for what?......”  The old man sighed, his attitude even more so than his words telling the toll of those years.  It was his confession, an attempt to make peace with the world he was in, like so many whose words fall silently unto the gods of hope and forgiveness. 

After another long silence, the Master's attention appeared to have returned to the bed.

  “But you know Oscar, it was not always a terrible place.  The matrons used to have a lot of love to give but this never ending saga has drained them as with everyone.  I barely recognise them any more.  It is a battle every day, and for some it is just easier to stop fighting.  It's hard these days to find anyone who hasn't encountered some loss or misery.” 

The creak of the chair springs and a gentle metallic clanking signalled the impending end of the Master's stay. 

“Ah, I don't know much any more, but I like the cut of you Oscar.  You're one of the good guys.  You remind me of a young man I used to know when I served in the war way back.  He unfortunately...  Well, another time perhaps.”  Again the old man patted Oscar, this time on the hand “Just don't lose hope old boy.”  And with that, the Master's shuffling footsteps receded from the room, leaving Oscar bathed in warm light and the receding tide of panic .

Chapter 12

Oscar awoke to the soft purring of the cat kneading him gently in pursuit of a more pleasing mattress on his stomach.  Relief washed over him as he savoured every detail of the vibrant surroundings.  He was no longer entombed in the blind sarcophagus he had been fighting but was once again in the soul world – Etiainheim.  Musing on his situation Oscar was forced to conclude that his unconscious self somehow drifted between the two worlds: Singeard the physical realm, where his body seemingly lay comatose, and Etiainheim the spirit world.  In a way it was comforting to know that he could still return to his body, even if it was unintentional.

Although he did not wish to disturb the winged feline now sleeping upon his stomach, Oscar felt restless and needed to move.  Easing her gently off, he set off in search of Vergil, who for once proved easy to find.  The rodent was perched high on top of a rocky outcrop such that his form was silhouetted against the rising sun. Looking out across the landscape Vergil did not turn, yet seemed attuned to the boy’s presence.

“He has headed for the town I believe.” Came the response from the rodent’s back.  “His trail has faded but it points in that direction.”

“Will it take long to get there?” Oscar asked, climbing up alongside Vergil and peering out over the rocky boundary.  The scene stretched for many miles across the forest, on and on as far as the eye could see.

“Who knows?  Physical distances do not abide by the same rules in Etiainheim.  The world flows as the souls do.” Vergil answered mysteriously.  A glance at Oscar told him the boy was not impressed, so he continued with a shrug. “Well I expect we should make it within the day.”

“Do you know where he's leading the other souls?” Oscar enquired further.  Vergil looked at him ominously.

“Somewhere dark away from any form of hope, the Maere have a whole manner of dark places with which to corrupt their victims.  He intends to change them.  Permanently.  To put upon them a foulness, that will sever the link between mind and soul.” 

Oscar was solemn, but before he could linger on the matter the rat vanished, reappearing at his feet.  Resuming his usual breezy tone Vergil continued.

“Well we won't catch him at this rate, stood around like hapless fool!  Let’s get a move on.” No sooner had Oscar readied himself to move of, than the cat – perfectly aware to her surroundings- awoke and soared over to join her fellow travellers.

That morning they walked far, though it was hard to recognise the passage of time as the now purplish sun traced a staggered path across the sky.  Oscar soon found there to be a lack of tangibility to time in Etiainheim.  During one moment the whole world would steadily tick along as usual; the next second a pocket in space could freeze altogether.

The first time he noticed it was during the morning, whilst sitting down to rest for a moment against a large bare tree.  As he watched, a gust of wind swept in and lifted a pile of fallen leaves.  Red, purples, ambers all whisked up in to the air, before floating gracefully back towards the ground. But suddenly, and as if by an unseen hand, a few froze motionless mid transit.  They remained there, completely still for a second and held by no rational means.  Then, just as if it had never happened, they reanimated all at once continuing their passage down.  It had happened in little more than the blink of an eye and Oscar found himself doubting what he had seen.

Unbelievable as it was at first, it did not take long until Oscar found himself duly observing these physical phenomena without misgivings.  On one occasion he walked alongside a section of a stream that was wont to freeze mid-flow and suddenly change direction, as though rewinding through time.  The persistent forward flow and reversal of the water meant that the same floating stick passed Oscar time and time again - sometimes upstream, sometimes down.   Though he has not been able to tell at first which was the correct way, a rocky section of their path revealed the true course of the water.  Here a waterfall interrupted the flow, or so Oscar supposed, for at the time of his arrival the water was streaming up the rock face; successfully defying the limitations ordinarily imposed by gravity.

The peculiarity of these events made Oscar feel he was dreaming, but it was the lucidity that woke him up.  The complex detail of even the most infinitesimal aspect of his environment was to such an extent he could not doubt his experience was real.  And yet, he knew only too well that the grim experience of the Institute was a reality.  The question of this double existence was one which worried Oscar, for if his body was in the Institute and his mind was in Etiainheim, then he was surely vulnerable in both scenarios?  This was certainly the case here, as his encounter with the birds had proved only too clearly.

Oscar hurried to catch up with Vergil as he led the party along a decayed path toward the outskirts of the forest.  Here it was more like patchy woodland, bordered by scrubby fields.  Striding across the withered path, he jumped slightly as the cat once again landed gracefully upon his shoulder.  She was a slight animal and tired easily of the journey, taking great lengths to relax whenever she could, particularly at Oscar's expense. 

“So you're an Itse too?” Oscar murmured rhetorically.  The cat gazed up at him with unblinking eyes almost as if to acknowledge his question. “Then who are you?” he thought with a jolt.  If the cat was really an Itse then surely she must have a counterpart in his world – maybe it was someone he knew?  The cat continued to stare up at him with green gem eyes, as if to say ‘Well, isn't it obvious?’  But before Oscar could give it due thought, the cat flinched and twisted to look back over his shoulder.  Curling up even smaller, she began to mew with increasing volume. 

Oscar looked around.  He could see nothing that might have disturbed her, but still the mewling continued.  Reaching up, he pulled the cat from his shoulder, attempting to cradle her or provide comfort in some way, but it was to no avail.  She would not lie still, constantly squirming around and ruffling up her fur until she looked almost twice the size.  Oscar saw with shock that once again she was beginning to glow.  He held her away, fearful of being burned and looked anxiously around for Vergil. The cat was steadily growing brighter, acquiring the appearance of exposed lava.

“Vergil!” Oscar yelled wildly. “Something's wrong”.  The rat was far in the distance but whisked around to see the boy holding the radiating cat aloft as though she were a beacon.  Vergil reacted suddenly, transporting in an explosion of mist to the top branch of a neighbouring tree.  His pointed face angled in all directions, sniffing frantically at the air before he looked down at Oscar with wild eyes. 

“Further into the woods, Oscar, hide!  Something foul is heading this way.”

Without need of a second warning, the boy sprinted deeper into the woods clasping the glowing cat.  He passed a few trees, though none sufficiently large to hide behind, before Vergil appeared nearby. 

“Quick, just a bit further, behind those trees over there” Vergil hissed.  Putting on a burst of speed, Oscar sped in the direction he pointed, coming finally to a thicker group of trees.  Sliding behind the nearest one, he was shielded by the massive trunk from the fields that flanked the woodland.  Cautiously he peered around the edge, but the field was empty.  Barely a moment later he could hear it; the not so distant flapping sound of beating wings.  It grew louder and louder, until the source of the danger was apparent. 

The committee of giant black birds landed yards from the tree line, heavily touching down one by one.  There were not so many that Oscar could not count them –something less than a dozen in fact– but it was the sheer size of them that was daunting.  Worse still was the smell, for they reeked of carrion; the scent of death and decay was carried along on the wind, making Oscar want to choke.  Cowering behind the tree trunk he held his breath, fearful that he might gag and give himself away. 

At the front towered the leader who stood at six feet, twice that of any of the other birds.  These grotesque vultures stalked the clearing with an unsteady gait and a rustling of feathers.  Squawks were transmitted from one to another, signalling their uncertainty about the situation. His heart pounding Oscar pulled himself further behind the tree but could not entirely lose the image from his sight.  He could still see clearly the razor sharp talons and gnarled beaks, searching for his flesh to finish the damage they had started.  And as if in response to this thought, Oscar’s shoulder began to ache; a reminder of his previous encounter during the flight from the Institute.  But no sooner had he noticed this than he was distracted by the cat, who was growing brighter by the moment.  Though he tried to hold her close and conceal the light emanating from her being, she struggled against his will and leapt for escape.  Evading his grasp she scrambled over his head and up the tree, before launching herself off its branches to soar deeper into the forest. 

Peering around the edge with his face nestled amongst leaves and branches, Oscar tried to see if the flight of the cat had signalled his position.  He found himself staring directly towards the black hooded eyes of the head vulture less than ten yards away.  Ducking quickly back behind the tree, he panicked.   They were certain to have seen him for he had made eye contact; they couldn’t have missed him – could they?  Sure enough an ominous chorus of screeching rose all at once from the clearing.  Frozen in fear, Oscar could only listen as again his shoulder throbbed.

The six foot monstrosity stalked towards the woods, the crack of broken twigs heralding its approach.  Alone and scared, Oscar held his breath as he waited to be discovered.  Though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to run, he remained rooted to the spot.  Pressed hard against the tree and praying not to be seen, his thoughts flashed briefly back to his life in the Institute and the numerous occasions he had hidden in a similar way: trapped and awaiting discovery, just wishing to disappear.  Shaking himself, Oscar braced against the tree, listening for the approaching attack.  Crack!  The vulture stood now just on the other side of the tree.  Sensing its prey was close by, it let forth a blood chilling caw.

Teeth clamped tight, Oscar summoned all of his courage.   He sensed rather than saw the head peering around the tree to his left.  Staring with terror as the vulture came fully into sight he squinted at the malevolent form, which peered right back at him with dark beady eyes.  In that moment Oscar's whole body trembled with anticipation.  He knew he should be sprinting away - yet something kept him stationary. 

Staring directly at the creature, he felt revolted.  The head was bald pink except for a few sporadic hairs, whilst the beak was deformed and dripped milky strings of fluid.  Though it now stood directly in front of him, the vulture paused.  Cornered, Oscar knew he had missed his chance to flee.  There was no way he could escape a strike at this range.   Yet bizarrely the bird just stood there, watching intently.

As if out of nowhere a stone came flying through the air behind the vulture, landing with a thud at the base of a tree over to the side.  Whirling around, the great bird charged in that direction.  Not believing his luck, Oscar held his position against the tree for fear that any movement might retract the scavenger’s attention.  After what seemed to be an aeon, the vulture finally sloped out of sight content with the null find.

Elated yet shaken, Oscar refused to move, feeling it was better to be certain than to step out to find the winged predator hiding in wait.  So he remained, reflecting on the inexplicable behaviour of the vulture.  Until his attention was caught by a scrabbling noise close by in the foliage.  The leaves rustled slightly before a small, furry figure emerged.

“Oscar, Oscar where are you?” Vergil hissed.  “I believe they are gone now.  You can come out.”  The boy was perplexed, for Vergil stood but inches from him and even the cat who usually lingered in his presence did not seem to have noticed him.

“Vergil, I’m here.” Oscar called, rolling his eyes.

The rat’s head quickly turned to track the sound, staring directly at the boy, tiny eyes shifting in focus.

“Well now.  That certainly is impressive.” And with a theatrical bow Vergil tipped an imaginary hat in the boy's direction.  “I take my hat off to you, Sir, for such an impressive display of manipulation.”

“What! Oscar exclaimed, baffled.  “What are you on about Vergil?”

“Why – you mean you don’t know?  Well just take a look at yourself.”

Still confused, Oscar looked down at himself and started in surprise.  Unsettling though it was, he was amazed to discover that somehow – unknowingly - he had completely camouflaged himself to blend in with the environment:  a perfect mimicry of the tree he stood so firmly pinned to.

“It seems bringing you here was a wise move indeed.  Even if I do say so myself.  A mind in the soul world, well I knew you had potential but your manipulation is just extraordinary.” Vergil commented.  “Few souls have the cognitive abilities to truly exploit the lack of boundaries Etiainheim offers, and many minds would struggle.  Though I myself have mastered them over time.”

Oscar prodded himself curiously with a stiff finger encased in bark.  His whole body was rigid as though literally rooted to the spot.  Fungi and moss had woven their way through his hair and over his clothes, coating him as though he had been there for years as part of the plant life.  So focused had he been upon the threat of the black vulture, he had failed to notice his transformation as he yearned to remain invisible.  He now blended so perfectly in with the tree that he may as well have been one.