The Escapist (5 page)

Shaking with fear and finding it hard to breathe, Oscar started to back away.  But the beast’s cry was unrelenting and it slowly dragged itself to its feet, edging forward with Oscar now in its sights.  The creature was still only small but possessed a menace that Oscar could not help but be overwhelmed by.  He gazed petrified at the animal, short of breath and fearful to such an extent that his previous back-tracking gave way to a panic-inspired sprint.  Heart bursting with strength but crippled with fear Oscar ran through the corridors towards the main lobby.  The shriek followed just behind, never quieting and so Oscar held his pace. 

With every stride that he fled the stress in his body seemed to lessen, the feeling that he was forgetting something feeling weaker and weaker.  With a flash of inspiration Oscar knew that he should not be wasting time here, he had to get back to what he faintly could recall as a reality.  Panicking, he raced through the lobby and sprang through the main entrance wildly casting round for an escape route, the shriek still ringing in his ears.  With no memory of where he should be heading Oscar did the only thing that made any sense, running at full pace towards the shallow crater of earth from which he had first started.  Snatching a look over his shoulder he could see the creature had stopped at the building entrance, perhaps satisfied at having expelled the intruder.  Oscar didn’t wait to be sure.  Taking a last leap towards the crater he almost felt as though he was flying, so easy was it to get there and so right to be coming back.  Falling into the earthy trench Oscar’s mind span, the terrifying call still echoing in his ears for a moment before the cloak of darkness once more took him into his folds.

Chapter 5

The boy awoke to the gentle tapping noise of wood upon glass.  Murmuring slightly he tried to cry out but his dry mouth struggled to articulate any sounds.  He drifted in and out of consciousness until he was aware enough to notice the tapping sound had stopped.  With his mind struggling to make sense of his surroundings, he detected the scent of the fragrant pipe smoke which filled the air.  Struggling to open his eyes they were bombarded by streams of light that pierced through the room and as he turned to his left he could just about make out the vague shadow of a figure sitting upright in a chair.  Sitting up slightly and shifting within the bed, his eyes slowly gained focus, gradually discerning the image of an old man in a housecoat, his pipe rested over an ashtray.

"Good morning Oscar, you've had quite the nap haven't you?" The Master's voice was comforting and earnest without the faintest trace of venom. "I understand you had an accident over at the pond.  Do you remember, Oscar?" Oscar could only reply with a gruff response of 'I don't know', but then immediately his memory came rushing back to him, a torrent of information unasked for but unavoidable. 

"Edmund,.. it was Edmund.  He knocked me in.  Hang on where, where am I?" Oscar suddenly realised he was not in his usual sleeping bunk and he looked about with bleary eyes.

"Edmund you say?  Hmmm, now that is interesting." The Master mused to himself, before noticing that Oscar was doing his best to struggle out from under the blankets.  "Look, you take it slowly now young man, you’re in the old Institute ward.  You received quite a nasty blow to head - indeed it sent you unconscious for the larger part of yesterday and this morning."

"It was Edmund, he did this..." Oscar began to get up but the sudden movement sent a shooting pain through his head.   His reaction was clearly noticed by the Master, who continued to peer thoughtfully at him. 

"Yes, well.  I'll be wanting a talk with you later - when you feel better, that is.  As for now, I would advise you to keep your accusations under wraps and try to recuperate.  I've told the matrons you are entirely indisposed for today and no one is to disturb you until tomorrow.  We will check in on you to see how you feel then."  With those parting words the Master hauled himself out of the seat with the sound of exertion that old men make and, dropping a sly wink, he exited the room.

Left to his own devices Oscar spent the recovery time trying to piece together his memories of the past two day's events.  Though he found it hard to focus at first, he could at least recollect some things: the crazy woman by the gate, himself by the edge of the pond and of course, Edmund.  But what was it he had dreamt?  He couldn’t remember any details but was certain he hadn’t truly spent the time out cold.  Something had been happening to him and he was convinced that this elusive experience had been so much more than a dream.  It was so different to any dream he had ever had – if only he could just remember what it had been about. 

Giving up on trying to remember the dream, Oscar turned his attention to the way the Master had responded when he had accused Edmund.  The old man had seemed somewhat surprised, musing over it like new evidence brought to light.  And that could only mean one thing: obviously no one was yet aware that Edmund had been the cause of the accident.  The swine, Oscar thought.  What had he told everyone?  He must have pretended he wasn’t around.  Or worse still, thought Oscar, his heart sinking, maybe he was playing the hero at Oscar’s expense. 

Frustrated by his inability to remedy any rumours that Edmund would undoubtedly be spreading; Oscar tried to relax and enjoy the free time.  However he could not.  Every time he made an attempt to move, his head pounded, yet the woollen blankets on the bed were itchy and uncomfortable - inciting him to move even more.  Praying for a form of escape, or at least a distraction, Oscar's wishes were granted in the shape of a none-too-skinny figure squeezing itself through the barely ajar door to his room.  This tricky manoeuvre accomplished, Piggy turned to look around the place properly, his face lighting up at the sight of Oscar.

"Osc, finally!  I've looked everywhere for you.  After you didn't show up last night I thought the crazy lady might have nabbed you."  Oscar managed a weak smile.  "So this isn’t bad, eh?  You get the day off and this room all to yourself."   Piggy said as he scrambled up and propped himself against the wall at the foot of the bed.

"Hmph.  Yeah, I guess you’re right, though the bed itches a lot and I can't move without my head hurting." Oscar replied with a wince.

"Oh right, your head.  So, how is it - will you have a scar?"

Oscar rolled his eyes.  Though only just recovering from the concussion himself this still seemed like a silly question.  His head was clearly bandaged and there were no mirrors around for him to have looked in even if the wound had been exposed.

"I don't know." Oscar said hinting to the bandage. “I guess it's likely, will have to wait and see.”

"Do you remember what happened Osc?  Edmund reckons he just found you floating in the pond with blood everywhere.  Says he practically saved your life!"

"What?!" Oscar shouted so hard he thought he was about to black out, so severe was the resulting pain.  Catching his breathe he continued "That swine, what does he think he's doing?  I can't believe he would say he rescued me!  I knew he would put some kind of spin on it – wouldn’t want to look bad – but that’s a step too far."

"So he wasn't there then?" Confusion set in on Piggy's face.

"He was there alright; he's the one who knocked me in."

Now it was Piggy’s turn to look aghast.  "You need to tell someone." Piggy said eventually.  "I should have known the whole story seemed a bit too angelic for Edmund.  You need to say something, get that thug sent away."

Oscar sighed.

"What’s the point?  The matrons would never believe my word over Edmund’s."

"Well what about the Master?" asked Piggy. “He seems reasonable.”

"I spoke to the Master earlier.  Even if he does believe me it won't matter.  Clarke had the real power and she won't have Edmund punished either way."

Piggy simply shrugged, his outrage diminishing and his reservoir of ideas all dried up. "Well Osc, if nothing happens we'll find a way to get back at him".  Oscar couldn’t help but recognise this rather brave comment from Piggy and, even if it was only intended in reassurance, he at least took it to be a sign of what threatened to become a friendship. 

After Piggy had departed -for free time was not a luxury the orphans had- the rest of the morning and afternoon passed with next to no event.  Oscar was amused to see one of the matrons bring him lunch in bed, as per the Master's orders.  The woman had contempt written all over her face as she handed over the tray and it was clear Oscar would regret his blatant smirk in the future.  This minor amusement aside, he racked his swollen brain to recall the bizarre dream he had had, but it was still infuriatingly beyond his grasp.  Dropping in and out of sleep his mind kept taunting him with half formed images of dripping slop and twisted creatures, though he couldn’t quite hold the detail and there was no context to place them within.

The pain started to subdue in his head, diminishing until it was no more than a dull throb and Oscar felt that by late afternoon he could finally venture out of bed without any sharp inflictions of pain.  He stretched his legs as he made his way slowly towards the single window in the room.  The room itself was clearly old and must have been a feature of the building prior to its conversion into an Institute.  Oscar was slightly surprised he had never come across it before given his night-time explorations but looking out of the window he realised why.  The room itself was on a second storey and was tucked away at the rear end of the building, facing East out onto the brambles and thorns that mounted the rear wall. 

Dust around the room indicated its lack of use but as a makeshift infirmary it was sufficient.  The new discovery of this place made Oscar question how much of the Institute he knew of.  After all, there could be a myriad of undiscovered areas sitting practically on his front door.  From what he had heard, the Institute had served many functions throughout history with each epoch incurring changes to the building's structure.  He supposed the infirmary represented one such relic of a time before, when the Institute was a military hospital close to the then-front lines of the war.  It had been dedicated to injured and traumatised soldiers but as the front lines shifted it became logistically unsuitable.  With growing numbers of orphans from the war's collateral it had fallen to the buildings original owner to convert the building to bear his name: ‘
Sir Gawain’s Compassionate Institute for War Orphans and Unfortunate Children’.

Returning his gaze to the bramble patch Oscar watched as a small brown rodent darted towards it, flinging itself under cover and scrambling out of sight.  Close in pursuit was a stray cat Oscar recognised; he had seen it occasionally snooping around the grounds, presumably in hope of finding leftovers from the Institute kitchen.  The cat skirted the edges of the thorny jungle, a little too large or perhaps too wary to venture in after the wily creature that went before.  With the cat’s attention on one area of the bramble patch, the creature –a rat- shot out of the side, keeping close to the gutter.  Unbeknownst to the stalker it made good its escape, disappearing down a drain at the building’s edge.   Oscar smiled.  At least somewhere the underdog was getting the better of the situation.

***

The next morning, feeling somewhat more fit and able, Oscar was called to the Master’s study.  Approaching the door he couldn’t stifle that sense of familiarity, something at the back of his mind trying to make itself known.  Trying to shake the feeling off he seized the door handle and began to push it open, yet he had hardly moved it before being assaulted with a memory from his dream during the accident; a large oak door, stiff and unyielding except to brute force.  The sudden recollection of this image threw him off guard and on entering the study he was barely aware of his true surroundings.    Disorientated, he became startled as the Master spoke.

“Oscar, I trust you feel better today?” the Master inquired.

“Yes, thank you.  Much better
.” Oscar said, making a concerted attempt to ignore his revelation and concentrate on the situation in hand.  Yet on seeing the room other images from his previous dream threw themselves forward, the large desk and dusty bookcase and the armour, yes the armour!  Looking around he almost expected to see the rusty crumpled suit but recoiled in shock as he found himself staring directly at Head Matron Clarke.

“Stop flailing around boy.”
she barked, nodding to the Master that he might continue.

“Ah, right yes.”  Even the Master was taken back by the rude intervention. “Well Oscar, it’s good to have you back on your feet but before we allow you to join the rest of the children we would like to ask you about what happened?”  Oscar bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“When you came round you made some accusations referring to Edmund.  Would you care to elaborate on them?”  Matron Clarke strolled round to stand in front of Oscar, her beady eyes focused intently as though to scrutinise every word he might say.

“Well.
..” Oscar started “…I was playing around the edge of the pond…”

“Foolish, dangerous place to be playing.” Matron Clarke immediately interjected, only to be reined back in by a disapproving glance from the Master.

“I was only treading the stones that skirt the edge.” Oscar replied, in an attempt to justify his actions.

“Do continue with the story.”
The old man calmly put the matter to bed, though Oscar could see Matron Clarke gritting her teeth, clearly ready to wade in with negative comments at any small opportunity.  In reflection Oscar decided it was in his best interests to keep the story short and get to the point.

“I was stepping across the rocks when I heard someone approach from behind.  Just as I turned around I saw Edmund throw a stone at me.” Oscar spoke to blank faces.  “I managed to turn quick enough to dodge the first stone but compromised my footing.  Edmund then let loose with another which knocked me off balance and I ended up falling backwards into the pond.”

The Master nodded expectantly.

“Well that’s it really, I must have hit my head and then, well, err.  I don’t know.” Oscar finished lamely, deflated to the extent that he only half believed the story now himself.   Making a concerted effort to cover up his confusion he managed to blurt out a further justification.  “It must have knocked me out completely because the next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary.”  He thought it was probably wise not to trouble them with his surreal visions that had occurred in the in-between.  After all, they had been nothing more than a vivid dream, surely?

The Master reclined a little to ponder his words.  Seizing the silence, Matron Clarke interjected. 

“Sheer nonsense young man, I have never heard such twaddle.  If it were not for young Edmund you wouldn’t even be around to tell such tales.  Why would Edmund try to hurt you only to then help you?  After all, it was Edmund who found you and alerted the other matrons.”

“He still knocked me over!”  Oscar knew his voice was raised and he was skirting dangerously close to a telling off.

“Oscar…” the Master said sharply, “…be aware to whom you are speaking
.” He had interrupted quickly before Matron Clarke could bite Oscar’s head off.