Quantum Poppers (8 page)

John stopped
walking. There was no smile now. One year? Imprisoned. His thoughts fell
straight to Jennifer and Jessica. His two beautiful girls without a father. And
then to Caroline, his beautiful woman without a husband. A lump rose in his
thought but he didn’t cry - dead men didn't cry. He began walking again.

‘So this is my
treat is it? An accompanied walk. The treat could have been an unaided one for
a change.’

‘I’m afraid
this one needs to be aided John. Please stop.’

John stopped
again and closed his eyes, forcing back tears as he tried to recall the last
time he had actually seen his children. He hated that he couldn’t recall
specifics - just that it must have been a routine morning and a routine wave
goodbye with a kiss on the cheek as he had headed out to work.

‘And turn to
your left.’

John turned
robotically and faced the locked door, one of which he had passed so many times
and not given a second thought to. This time however he noticed a small box
above the door. It looked like a doorbell and had one small red blinking LED on
it.
There must be something important behind this door,
thought John as
Bartley stood next to him and attempted to justify his humanity and something
else about realities and bad guys - always getting no closer to revealing any
answers.

‘John, this
truly is the best I can do. However I feel about you needing to stay here and
the restrictions put upon you - we need to adhere to them. It is my job.’

John didn’t say
a word. He stared at the door, resigned to disappointment. Complete acceptance
that he’d soon be back in his room watching the interference on the TV and
looking forward to his next shave welled within him.

‘Maybe one day
we will explain all that is going on, but for now, this is all I can offer
you.’

With that he
motioned to one of the guys who stepped beside John before pushing open the
door. It opened outward onto a scene John was least expecting. Daylight hit
him. It was an almost physical force, somehow strengthened by the towering
walls of the alley which lay before him. All the times he had passed this door
it had been only a barrier to the outside world and whilst it was a rain
drenched back alley to the complex they were in, complete with graffiti strewn
walls, overflowing bins and the pungent smell of blocked drains, all John could
say was: ‘it's beautiful.’

‘Sorry about
the rain.’

‘It's somehow
fitting.’ The sky was overcast. Dark clouds had plumed and were throwing their
rain upon the already soaked concrete pathway that led away from him like some
magical wet brick road to who knew where. He could hear distant traffic as if
they were near, or only part of, a larger industrial complex. A lone magpie
took flight dislodging a can of Pepsi from the heap of rubbish. John watched it
fall. A tiny piece of reality he never would have registered before. ‘You
should have heard some the abduction theories I’ve had floating around my head.
I’m just relieved to see I’m still on the same planet.’

Bartley made no
response as to whether he’d heard him. ‘All this is simply reality.’

‘I don’t
recognise this place.’

Bartley
remained silent

‘Are my family
out there, looking for me?’ John continued to stare out at the narrow alleyway
under cover of the corridor. He’d never felt so free in his entire life.

‘I’m s...’

‘No. Don’t say
a word. Even if I could believe you were sorry I...was my disappearance covered
up?’ John didn’t expect any kind of answer and got what he expected. He could
see Bartley out of the corner of his eye stare down at his feet as if dejected,
at least wanting to answer yet sticking strongly to his desire or apparent need
to not say a word. ‘Let me walk, it can’t hurt.’

This time it
was the guard to his right he saw motion out of the corner of his eye. He had
stepped back, perhaps awaiting John to flee and ready to grab him if need be.

‘Nobody wants
you here John. We wish you could be let out, set free, as want of a better
phrase. But the actions we have taken are dwarfed by what could happen if you
were let out, even briefly.’

‘
Could
happen? So I’m being held here on the supposition of what
could
happen,
not what will?’ The defeated calmness as to how John spoke scared even him. Had
he really lost this much hope? Part of him wanted to return to his room, the
same part that hated Bartley for teasing him with this look at the rain soaked
reality before him.

‘If you were
told the truth, no doubt you would go out of your way in doing what we tell you
for safety reasons. But, we cannot take that chance. No matter how small the
chances are for you doing what cannot be done, the consequences would be
disastrous. Contact could...’

‘Contact?
Contact with who?’ John pleaded. He finally turned to Bartley, close to
shouting.

‘I’m sorry,’
said Bartley.

‘Stop, stop,’
shouted John. ‘You go on and on without telling me a thing. Please, let me just
walk out to the end of the alley. Let me see life continuing. Let me feel one
more natural sensation. At least glimpse another human being. And do not say
sorry!’ added John as Bartley was about to speak.

John and
Bartley stared at each other. It was the longest they had ever made eye
contact. John tried to read the blank expression on Bartley’s face in an
attempt to surmise what was going on behind the heavy lidded eyes. Those eyes
glanced briefly to the two guards that occupied the corridor, seemingly to
check that they were still there rather than gauging opinion from them. ‘Come
on,’ said John. ‘I doubt there’s much I could do. I guess I’m being watched.’

‘A camera has
never left you whilst you’ve been on this site. And even out in that alley, it
never will.’

John turned
back. There were no signs of cameras. It was either a bluff, or more likely,
smaller concealed ones were trained on him. It looked as though this was still
being treated as a public route, one that led to a heavily secured door with no
sign as to what was held within. Expensive camera systems would alert people.

‘Please’, he
said and closed his eyes as a particularly strong gust of wind rushed into the
corridor. He felt it engulf him and savoured the sensation.

‘Ok,’ said
Bartley, it was he who now sounded defeated. ‘Up to where you can see. We will
be with you. Please, take this as acceptance that we’re not the bad guys. This
is our gift to you. All this is for you. This walk is for you to maybe hate us
a little less.’

John wanted to
say how it couldn’t be possible to hate them any more but kept his mouth shut.
‘Thank you,’ he said and took one step forward on to the rain soaked concrete.

His senses were
heightened. The lack of natural light, air, and most of all company brought
even the most intimate of details into high clarity: the way the water splashed
upon his face and out from under foot in miniature arcs; the graffiti on the
mottled walls which told John the number of where he could find a good time;
the cat that fled from behind one of the bins, darted away from him towards the
wall ahead before shooting right and out of sight. These moments would have to
be treasured, he could no longer afford to take anything for granted not
knowing where his time here would take him.

All four of
them walked in silence towards the brick wall which marked the end of the path.
The light to the right of it grew stronger, indicating ongoing life around the
corner – just out of reach. There was still no sign of cameras but he knew they
were there. He also knew Bartley would be having kittens in fear at the way
events were now transpiring. Bartley was still in control but this walk
outdoors alone had shown John a chink in his armour. Perhaps it was the brief
glimpse of humanity he had mentioned, and John was prizing it open ever more
slightly.

‘John. John!’
The words called to him but did not register. His thoughts lay more than ever
on his two treasures which he missed more than ever. His beautiful girls. Had
they been told anything? Surely not the truth, but could the lies really be
more comforting? ‘John.’

He stopped, one
step away from the brick wall and the corner. One of the guards stepped hastily
forward to block the new alley which moved into sight on his right. It was
brightly lit, as if it opened out into daylight with none of these foreboding
prison walls towering either side. He knew that if he could just see what was
around that corner all would be well. He needed to see, and then he would
return. He edged forward and turned to face the man who was blocking the path.

Daylight
backlit him, as did more buildings and the dim sounds of passing traffic which
he could not see. At the end of the alley, to the left, he could now see a
staircase leading down. It appeared that they were at least one story raised
and the traffic, which could be heard but not seen, passed somewhere below. All
blocked by this nameless captor.

‘I’m dead
already aren’t I? My family, friends. My girls. Doesn’t really matter what
you’ve told them. I’m dead to them now.’

‘Trust me,’
said Bartley. 'They do not think you are dead.’

John turned to
Bartley. He looked pathetic in his rain-drenched mac. His hair, usually thick
and curled lay limp against his skull. The other guard also looked diminished
in the soaking rain. Somehow John managed a smile. ‘That’s the first direct
thing you’ve told me. “They do not think you are dead.” Finally a fact. You’re
beginning to let things slip.’

And this was
all it took. It was the key, the reason for facing the man blocking the alley.
His justification for accepting that death didn’t really matter.

‘They don’t
think you are dead,’ he said out loud for all to hear.

And then he
ran.

The guard was
taken unexpectedly and slipped in the mounting rain. John barged him to the
side, it sent a strike of pain through his arm but he no longer cared. The path
ahead was now clear, one which led to his future of only a few seconds. Up
ahead the path made another right turn but not a turn he planned to take. There
was a loud crash. Someone had opened fire. At least two bullets had exploded
into the concrete barrier to his right which had replaced solid wall. There was
a shout of which John recognised as coming from Bartley but he kept on running
as the alley ended. To his left the set of stairs opened up and for a split
second he weighed up his chances of fleeing on foot. But then a figure appeared
below blocking the route. They registered each other in an instant and the idea
of freedom, which had flickered briefly in his mind, was destroyed. This part
of the alleyway ended with a waist high barrier, and below it the sounds of
roaring traffic. It was like a multi story car park. All he could now see as he
approached the barrier, clearly raised from street level, were windows of
buildings and even the roof of one single story building opposite. He had no
way to know how high he really was or what was below. This was his release, his
only escape from a year to the day of solitude and lies. They were never going
to explain a thing. All he had been told was that his family no longer thought
he was dead, and with this final notion he leapt and flung himself over the
barrier. No more bullets could be heard but Bartley’s voice seemed more
amplified than ever as it screamed out his name and faded as John fell.

His eyes were
shut. He was almost ashamed as his dying thoughts were of his family. It seemed
wrong to have them in his head as he took the cowardly way out. He did not want
them to be a part of this.

Then there was
pain and the screech of brakes. He had landed awkwardly but as he opened his
eyes he saw he had only fallen one story, and survived. Above him, looking over
the side of what did appear to be a causeway linking the back of a number of
buildings, he saw first one guard, then another and then Bartley. He also found
himself in the middle of a busy road. One car had slammed its brakes on and
managed to dodge him. Suddenly there were more people screaming out his name -
John, John - and five others appeared on street level running directly for him
from the shadows. His legs ached in pain but nothing was broken. He took one
tentative step forward before fleeing into the traffic. One car and then
another slammed their brakes on to avoid him as he ran across the two lanes,
knowing people were following. He made it into the final lane, still uncaring
as to the outcome despite his second chance. Again he heard the screech of
brakes but also sensed the motion of an oncoming car swerve to avoid him. It
veered across one lane and then into the oncoming traffic - he heard the
resulting smash (and caught the instant stench of burning oil) but didn’t turn
to see what had happened. There was the sound of high-pitched car horns, tire
screeches and other minor collisions, hopefully enough to slow his pursuers,
maybe some would also stop to help in the resulting carnage he had created.

The pavement
was deserted. They were in an urban industrial area which bordered shopping
facilities, but few people were on the pavements. He darted to his left before
squeezing down another pathway between two buildings - the thoughts in his head
of Jennifer and Jessica now stronger than ever. He welcomed these memories.
They were helping him stay alive one fleeing step at a time.