The Escape

by Gabriel Dedji

  “I just want to make a few acknowledgements to those who deserve a lot of respect. First of all I want to acknowledge Tyrone Johnson from Croydon who got full marks on every exam of his GCSE’s. Your local newspaper doesn’t care about your success because you’re black. We do not discriminate, and now you have made it onto live TV. Give us a smile!”

  The auditorium started to fill with quiet whispers of confusion. Bob continued.

  “I just want to thank Selena Whyte from Enfield for her work in providing activities for troubled young girls in her community. Selena, your local government doesn’t provide you with funding. We will help you.”

  Money started to rain above the head of a lady on the second row.

  “I just want to thank Catalyn Kaczka from Hackney, who has been helping new immigrants to find jobs for the last 20 years. The home office has said that they will deport you in the next 5 years when your visa expires. Worry no longer. Your new British passport sleeps under your chair.”

  A Polish lady began to cry tears of joy in the eighth row as she waved a small red book in her hand.

  “I just want to thank you, Kerlene Jackson from Hammersmith, you have been trying to close the gender pay gap in your community for the last 15 years! You are a thorn in your local MP’s side, but today you have won your battle. Every female in your area has had a pay rise to match the men in their workplaces doing work of equal value.”

  Another lady on the sixth row back started to cheer.

  “There are much more of you to be acknowledged. None of you have been forgotten, I assure you. Go home today, and find your gifts.”

  At this point in Bob’s speech, some of the ushers started to walk up to the stage. The AV team had just received some orders to shut down the sound system, but for some reason, their mixing boards stopped working. Leroy Kaylan looked at each of the ushers who approached the stage, and somehow they all managed to trip over each other’s feet. The camerawoman smirked as she caught everything.

  A paper flew in front of Remel and onto the podium. He read it as he had been told to.

  “The fight must begin with all of those that are not allowing us to make a difference. We are Change Makers! We are beginning our attack.”

  Adira stared at her son and wondered what he was doing. The audience were now aware that ‘Revolución’ weren’t a regular music act. The whole event had practically been hijacked. All they could do was watch and begin to understand the message that Revolución stood for. Adira stared at her son, wondering when he had the time to prepare for all of this.

  The musicians sped up again. They all viciously attacked their instruments in a way that created the most glorious sound. They ceased to play abruptly with an enormous discord. The performance was like a play at the theatre where the whole auditorium had been immersed in the experience. Many questioned whether or not the musicians were acting or being serious.

  “Our fight begins with the enemies,” explained Bob.

  “The fight begins with you: Madam Mayor,” shouted Bob as he pointed his finger to the mayor of London, sitting on the balcony, guarded by none other than PC Connor. “You have put more money into your own electoral campaign this year than health care for the handicapped, programmes for young people and housing for those in need. You are our enemy.”

  The mayor could only keep a straight face whilst the ‘Uncensored Change’ (or ‘Revolución’ as they had called themselves for the event) continued their attack.

  “The fight begins with Trevor Flemming and Noah Brown who have suspiciously disappeared from the auditorium. Corrupt fools! You are our enemy,” proclaimed Dennissa Cole.

  “The fight begins with you. Whoever you are. We will come for you as long as you stand in the way of justice. You are our enemy,” promulgated Remel.

  “Anger!” cried ‘Revolución’ as they began to play the first song which they had entered with.

  All of the musicians had an extraordinary amount of passion which was felt through the sudden crescendo. They gradually reached an unbearable volume until they reached their peak. The lights perished in the auditorium. All speckles of natural light died, and the light bulbs lost their power for a second. It was a moment of disarray. Everyone looked for light. When the lights returned, everything had ended. ‘Revolución’, all the kids that had accompanied them, all of their instruments and Remel, their speaker had disappeared. The audience erupted into another round of applause at the magical ending whilst the mayor and some other members of the audience sat red-faced and on edge. Juliana and Adira looked from their seats for sight of Remel. He was nowhere to be found at that moment, and there was no one to help him.

  There was no need to help him.

  Chapter 26

  After the tremendous performance, Remel finds himself in the same metal room that he was in during his dream at the poet’s room.

  Mr Brathwaite was surrounded by the same people who he had just performed with. They towered over his disconcerted body in the darkness of the office. He shot up onto his feet and jumped away from the group as he came to consciousness. His head was pounding. Lonnie could see the disconcertion on Remel’s face so he approached him slowly whilst telling him to breathe.

  Remel analysed all the computers and technology in the room that he had never seen before. There was a computer in the far corner of the room which flashed with the message: ‘Teleportation 8 COMPLETE’. He estimated that altogether: the room would’ve cost millions, which was ironic because it was almost as if they couldn’t afford heaters. The members of the group looked at Remel as he took in his environment.

  “Weren’t there eight of you?” asked Remel, counting 7 other people with him.

  Bob chuckled behind Lonnie.

  “You said it yourself, son. The fight has already started. Let’s just get you back to where you need to be before you get wrapped up in all this.”

  Before Remel could blink, he had found himself sitting next to Juliana again. She jumped up out of shock.

  “What the hell! Remel? What the hell was that?” exclaimed Juliana, a little too loudly.

  Remel shook his head. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened. On the podium where he had just been, stood the mayor, whom he had just taken part in shaming. She looked directly at him as she spoke.

  “I want to say a big thank you to Remel Brathwaite and ‘Revolución’. As I have publicly explained before, I am of Spanish-Cuban origin so I know that the word ‘Revolución’ unsurprisingly translates to revolution, and that little magic show of yours was definitely a revolutionary one. I want to invite Remel, ‘Revolución’ and any other revolutionary attending here today to come and talk to me in the foyer, because it is only with your criticism and your opinions that we can make this city great again.”

  Remel stood up to go outside and get some fresh air. The previous five minutes had completely ruined him. On his way to the exit, he saw his mother who looked surprised to see him. She asked him where he had been, but he shrugged her off and told her that he would speak to her when everything was done. She went back inside after ending a phone call.

  Outside, the air felt refreshing on Remel’s frozen skin. He really felt as if he needed to smoke to relieve himself of the confusion that he had just been bombarded with. Reality and fantasy had begun to blur in his mind. It had become impossible for him to tell the difference between the two. His next moment would even further emphasise his confusion.

  Just across the street, Remel saw King Keys—returning after his morning disappearance—staring into the barrel of a gun held by PC Connor. The officer was determined to pull the trigger and end the poet’s life at that moment. From the session that Remel had with him he had already been able to discern that there was something wrong with him. He lunged across the road as if he had just come out of the barrel of a cannon. He landed heavily on the officer and started punching him in the face repeatedly whilst telling King Keys to run away. The gun fell on the floor and into a plastic bag which h
ad been rolling around like tumbleweed. The officer tried to get up to finish what he had started. He grabbed his assailant by the neck, but Remel pushed his hands away and continued to pound him in the centre of his face. PC Connor left his blood all over Remel’s fists.

  A police car parked up next to Remel. Two other officers jumped out.

  “This guy just tried to shoot that man over there. Look!” Remel explained as he pointed into thin air. King Keys was again nowhere to be found.

  PC Connor pushed Remel from him and looked for his gun. One of the officers put Remel into handcuffs and escorted him into their car. They all got in for a quick drive to the station.

  Chapter 27

  Remel is in a cell.

  It was as if it had been the place that had inspired the metal office of the ‘Uncensored Change’. The cell was freezing as if it had purposefully cooled itself to make its inhabitants feel uneasy. The concrete floor and the metal walls rejected any idea of a ‘home-y feel’. Remel felt fear crawling all over his body. He wasn’t sure what he was scared of in particular, but he felt the need to run away. The bars on the cell had assured him for the previous three hours that any thought of escape was a silly one. Adira marched in, accompanied by the officer who had handcuffed Remel. She was beyond tears and words. She was like a robot, rejecting all feelings which came her way.

  “You’re lucky for all the things your mum has done to get you out of here. If it wasn’t for her spirit, you would be facing a serious criminal record.”

  Remel nodded at the officer and apologised profusely for his actions. His mother allowed him to finish declaring his guilt before she grabbed him by the ear and practically chucked him into the taxi that had been waiting outside for him. He began sobbing as he got in to the taxi.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Don’t cry. I know what you’re going through, and we’re going to solve all your problems today,” Adira said.

  Remel didn’t argue with his mother’s cryptic statement. The taxi driver spent an hour driving through London before stopping in front of a building with a plaque which read: ‘The Janus Mental Hospital’. Adira handed the driver £40 before they went on their way. Remel knew the area where they had arrived and was certain that this was not their home. The five-storey building towered over him and assured him that the worst was yet to come. He followed his mother into the building. She walked past the front desk and up the stairs to the first floor. She knocked on a door which was labelled ‘Dr Damagh’s office’. A tall Egyptian/Arabian looking man came through with a wide smile on his face. He hugged Adira before turning his attention to her son.

  “Hello, Remel. We’ve met before when you were younger, but I’m sure you wouldn’t remember me now. It must’ve been close to 15 years ago.”

  Remel took a seat at a desk with Asa’s chair opposite him. Remel slowly began to recognise the man, but his memory was still vague.

  The small room was lit only by a lamp next to the laptop. The wooden walls left a vintage feel. On the walls were some pictures of some famous movies. The only one Remel could recognise was The Matrix.

  “Your mother has told me recently that you haven’t been feeling well. Is that true?” asked Asa.

  “No. I’m perfect,” replied Remel much to his mother’s chagrin.

  Asa paused before continuing.

  “That’s all right. So talk to me about what happened today at the ‘Change Maker’s Event’.”

  Asa had chosen his words carefully. Remel also had to pause before answering.

  “I don’t know,” he answered simply.

  “Do you know the names of the people you performed with?” questioned Asa as if they were in an interrogation room.

  Remel nodded his head. Asa handed him a piece of paper to write their names down. After a few seconds of arguing with himself about whether he should or shouldn’t have done so, he began to write. Asa read the names Remel had given to him before typing them on his laptop. He tried to ask Remel a few more questions about, ‘Revolución’, his father and his life, but Remel wouldn’t answer. Once Asa realised that he had simply been attempting to draw blood from a stone, he called his assistant via intercom and told her to bring up his paper from the printer. He walked in the room swiftly with a single A4 sheet and handed it to Remel. He left. The room was void of any sound. Remel looked at the paper and gasped at what he was seeing. Asa perused Remel’s expression and began to type things into his laptop again.

  “Do you recognise these people?” asked Asa.

  Remel nodded his head, but what he was seeing was impossible. The paper in front of him held the images of seven musicians who he enjoyed listening to. The seven of them were identical to a member of ‘Revolución’, apart from Leroy Kaylan who had no counterpart in the pictures. Two of the musicians, Ghostface Killah and J. Cole, although male looked just like the twins that were at the incident at Rasharn’s house. In fact, he realised at that point, with startled surprise, that they were Germaine and Dennissa, two of the musicians he had just performed with. The two rappers looked nothing alike, but somehow their female counterparts had merged enough of the two rappers characteristics to bear uncanny resemblances to each other and their celebrities. Remel turned in his chair to wave the paper in his mother’s face frantically. He pointed to one of the rappers and said:

  “Don’t you remember her? Our taxi driver from this morning! And look: I performed with these people today.”

  Adira shook her head at her son.

  “Remel. Today at the Change Maker’s Event, you performed with a backing track. From the information I’ve been given, you’ve shown many symptoms recently. We’re going to have to keep you here over the next few weeks to see exactly what’s wrong and how we can treat you.”

  Remel had already had his share of prison for the day. He stormed out of the room and ran downstairs to the foyer. Two security guards stood at the entrance. He tried to run past them into the streets, but the first guard stopped Remel whilst the second one got behind him and injected him with a serum of the tranquilising nature. Asa came downstairs and helped to drag Remel into his quarters as if he was an inhabitant of an asylum for the insane. Adira stayed in his office and cried quietly, hoping that she was doing right for her son.

  *****

  Remel has been in and out of the hospital for 11 months without any diagnosis. Asa is planning to release him permanently within a week. The date is October 29th. The time is 16:00.

  Asa and Adira had come to visit Remel in his quarters, holding hands. They opened the door to find Remel on his laptop, lost in an episode of his favourite anime. Over the 11 months Remel had spent in inconsistent isolation, the laptop was one of his only companions. He had lost contact with the little amount of friends that he had left, he had lost contact with the outside world and he had lost contact with the masked man who, during his stay at the hospital, he had been forced to believe was a figment of his imagination. His only friend was Coreen Akinyemi, who he had become friends with, after he found that she too had been admitted to the hospital. A small gold chain was offered by her as a peace offering between them. She wouldn’t talk to Remel about why she was admitted so he respected her privacy as she respected his. Eventually, their mutual respect became a foundation for trust. Adira and Asa had also grown closer over the 11 months.

  “Remel, this is all going to be over soon. You can come back home by next week,” Adira spoke joyously to her son who was more interested in his anime than her good news.

  “Remel, turn that off we have something to say,” continued Adira.

  Remel paused his laptop.

  “We’re getting married!” she exclaimed, whilst waving her engagement ring in the corner of Remel’s peripheral vision.

  “Congratulations,” he sighed before returning to the episode.

  It was clear that Adira had lost her son to the emotions that he grappled with internally. She and Asa stood worryingly behind him trying to find the right words t
o say. Remel too yearned for the ability to express himself and all of his troubles, but he failed to find any possible way to do so. Instead, quiet filled the room. Asa and Adira’s presence gave Remel a sense of discomfort. Their relationship felt like an insult to his father, but he couldn’t be angry at his mother for being able to move on.

  Remel needed to run away. In that moment of awkward silence, as Remel searched for an escape from whatever factor it was that stood in the way of fluid conversation, he saw an envelope on the floor. It was a usual white envelope: rectangular, not large in size, and stamped in the corner, yet Remel was taken aback by its existence. For some odd reason, he needed to pick it up and analyse it as if he had been commanded to do so. The envelope was entitled to him. Literally. He felt no shock or surprise for somehow he had known that the envelope was his from the second he had laid eyes on it. Remel ripped it open with the urgency of a wild animal devouring its prey. Asa and Adira watched from the corner of the room, unable to understand what was going on. A folded piece of A4 paper was inside, almost blank, aside from a small typed note which read: ‘Fire 1700’.

  The scent of liberty hovered through the air. Remel, the inquisitive, ran past the couple, booted down the front door without being interrupted by any security guards and ran with the letter. He ran with an ignited spirit away from the unforgiving fury he had felt against Adira and the constitutions which had been put in place to keep him imprisoned in Asa’s asylum. People on the streets dodged and danced nimbly to avoid bumping into the young man sprinting in the middle of the pavement like a starving cheetah with a pack of deer in sight. Within an hour of unmatched stamina and speed, Remel found himself in front of Rasharn’s old house side by side with a tall man (around 6 foot 4) with a long overcoat and an iron mask. The man wore a small silver necklace, which had the word Leroy on it, underneath a white, slim fitted shirt. Both Remel and Keys looked at what once was a family home.