Adapt

by Edward Freeland

  Daniel looked back to the handrail with hope. The words of the old woman should be dismissed, but he couldn’t dismiss the words of the nurse: Things are going to heat up now, you will see. We will help your mind break. The injury to his head, the bruising down his side, pain tightening around his neck. That taste in his mouth on arising that afternoon. A taste that made his blood boil. He thought of Dr Cribson’s choice of words, Everything is prepared for you. You can Rest. In. Peace while you are under us. Jenny Green’s damning verdict on his request to leave, Can’t you face the consequences of the things you have done? There was a sinister agenda at play, of that he was sure. Crazy the mad woman may be, but she could have a point. Her words rang close to his own diagnosis, I heard them say you’re dead. It was you they said. You’re dead. Dead.

  Daniel looked at his watch. Twenty minutes is now down to sixteen before they check on me. Sixteen minute head start. If I can go across the farm opposite, follow the road for a mile, I can then cut through the nature reserve. The nature reserve he could use to navigate through was a few miles of woodland. Once on the other side I’m nearly home. The reality of what may have happened last night really dawned on him. Somehow he had played down the darkness of the ward. As unbelievable as it may be, the doctor and the nurses were clearly preparing, and their preparations were not in his best interest. It was up to him to preserve his future, protect his body from further harm. His heart began to race, pounding in his chest.

  Daniel hopped onto the handrail. With both feet on the rail he could reach the lip above the door with ease. A hole in the brickwork, six feet from the ground, was perfectly situated for his plan. From the moment he entered the ward his foot was destined for this chipped out brick. It was enough for his boot to gain grip. With his left hand securely positioned on the lip above the door he was able to extend his left arm fully. His foot began to slip out of the hole; edging it back into place he could drive up. His right foot secured in the wall, his left arm providing support above the door frame and his chest butting up to brick. He hoped no one would see his left leg hanging in front of the door, bait for the catch, his only limb without a task. Daniel’s right arm reached up at full stretch, his entire body precariously balanced. He gripped the bar of the window. If he was a few inches short he would have to abort. It was enough. Once holding the bar it was easy to pull his body up. Daniel’s left hand abandoned its supporting role. With both hands on the window bars his feet scrambled to the lip above the door. From here he could hoist himself onto the roof.

  From atop the building Daniel’s vision was clear; he could see as far as needed. There’s scaffolding on the other side of the building. He hastily ran across the roof. Thankful that the builders hadn’t repaired the façade of the unit where the brickwork was in need of care. Relieved that the scaffolding was still erected, providing a generous descent to the pavement. He was grounded within seconds. There was no time to appreciate leaving, he wasn’t home and dry. He scanned the grounds of the hospital, most of the passers-by seemed to be visitors. The race had begun. Eleven minutes until they realise I’ve slipped out of their grasp. They will search the grounds for a few minutes more and then I’m eluding a search party. I’m not going back, they will have to make new preparations.

  Daniel sprinted as fast as he ever had. His injuries vanished from thought, but the people who inflicted them were ever present. They were his motivation, his drive. If he needed to fight he could and would. The fear he felt was not of his abusers’ strengths but of their weakness. He was afraid of how weak and deceitful these people were, to drug him, debilitate him, and surrender his mind to a slumber before they moved in for the kill. A person as weak as that is frightening. A group of people with the ability to detain him using the law of the land capable of that is hell itself.

  Adrenaline pumped around his body, his blood flowed to the cells in his legs providing oxygen to his quadriceps and calves. His heart levelled to a steady beat, as did his strides. Once off of the private property he continued along the road. No artificial lighting for assistance, only the moon, which highlighted the ditch at the roadside. The fact there were no streetlamps was an aid – he could see a car’s full beam a good moment before the vehicle was alongside him. Forewarned is forearmed, he thought.

  He was depleting oxygen fast. The training he was used to was varied, which helped his muscle memory continue through the build-up of lactic acid in his legs. His body was honed for short, sharp sprints or long, arduous jogs. This was a long, arduous sprint. He needed to slow down and restore oxygen. As he slowed he noticed the cold for the first time. His nose was frozen, and still swollen around the bridge, decreasing the amount of air he could suck in.

  There was a bend in the road up ahead and then the nature reserve would be before him. The bend lit up, bright as day. Daniel stopped, he didn’t have long before the light would come round the bend. It could be them. Daniel didn’t want to be face to face with the car. A silhouette in the night, captured and delivered back to the ward, a lamb to the slaughter.

  Diving into the ditch he felt a sudden pain in his thigh. His leg had landed on something. It was too dark to see. The car was on approach. Peering through the tufts of grass at the brim of the ditch he could see that the vehicle was travelling slowly. He ducked his head slightly, but was intrigued as to who was driving. The car was crawling. The police. Daniel moved to prone position immediately, in the hope he would hear the engine disappear into the night. If they catch me they will take me back. They’re not going to believe the situation. An escaped mental patient, branded psychotic, fretting that the ward are preparing my execution. They will make sure I’m locked up. The car disappeared. Daniel got to his feet and touched the area that was hurting. A tear in his jeans enabled him to poke his finger through. Blood seeped from a small laceration.

  The room like all others in the building, white and bare. Clarissa sat with her hands clasped together in her lap. The door opened and there entered a police officer. As tall as the door itself he towered over Clarissa. He handed her a drink.

  “Here you go,” he said.

  “Thank you. They haven’t found him yet?” she asked. Clarissa was shaking.

  “Not yet,” he replied, “but they will do.”

  “He’s really confused at the moment. I hope he’s okay. He said on the phone that he had to leave urgently,” she said. “We were going to talk to the doctor.”

  “Why was he in here?”

  “He came in voluntarily. He was so anxious that he was being hacked.”

  “Hacked? What, his computer or something?”

  “Yes, he didn’t know what to do, he kept saying he was going to ring the police because someone was still hacking him,” she replied. The officer took a seat next to her.

  “We will find him. He’s probably making his way home. Maybe we can help if he is being hacked,” he said.

  “We thought this might help relax him. He usually thinks things out so well, but he couldn’t think properly,” she said.

  “Once he is settled back at home and the shock dissipates he’ll be fine,” said the officer.

  “Hopefully. I’m so sorry for using police resources.”

  “It’s no problem. All our officers will be happy to help,” he said as he got to his feet. “Will you be okay for a few minutes? I will be back soon.”

  “Yes.”

  The officer left the room and made his way down the corridor. Jenny Green chased him down. “You have to bring him back tonight,” she said.

  “We will see how the situation unfolds,” he replied.

  “No. You must bring him back.”

  “I have to go and speak to another officer. If you will excuse me,” he said as he continued to the exit. Jenny Green stormed in a huff toward the room in which Clarissa was waiting. Clarissa smiled. The smile took effort but she managed to greet the ward nurse that she had only met briefly on arrival. Clarissa and Harry turned up at seven, only minutes after the start of the hunt
had begun.

  “If the police don’t bring him back tonight I will have two doctors section him first thing tomorrow,” said Jenny Green. Clarissa stared at the floor in an attempt to fight back the tears. One escaped and rolled down her cheek. She stayed silent and didn’t respond. “You watch, he’ll be back here by noon and there’s nothing you can do to stop it,” she said before slamming the door. Clarissa flinched as the door closed.

  Standing in the cold, the threatening ward to their backs, Harry and Matt were deciding who was going to join the search. An officer approached them after pulling up in a police car. “We’ve got the roads covered. My guess is he is avoiding the roads,” said the officer.

  “It’s possible,” said Harry.

  “I don’t think he will approach a police car,” said the officer.

  “If he thinks you are going to bring him back he might not,” said Harry. “I’m going to take my car around the obvious routes.”

  “Good idea, he may wave you down. There’s so many places he can hide in the night,” the officer said.

  “It’s a cold night,” said Matt, “he wasn’t dressed for this temperature.”

  “We are going to fuel up the helicopter. Once in the air we will find him quickly.”

  “I think he will take the most direct route home,” said Harry.

  “If he makes it home before we find him, then good. If we find him first it would help to know what frame of mind he is in?” asked the officer.

  “He was only in there to help him relax. If you do find him he will co-operate with what you ask,” said Harry. “He’s reasonable, he’s just had a bad few weeks.”

  “Okay, the helicopter will be up soon. If he is off-road, which I suspect he is, they will locate him,” the officer said.

  “Thanks,” said Harry.

  “I will go and wait with Mum,” said Matt.

  “Good idea,” said Harry. “Go and see how she is. I will drive round for a while, get another car on the road.”

  The moonlight reflected off the tip of his boots as he ran. With each stride he would gauge his step, eyes fixed to the ground a few feet ahead. In his lower periphery one foot would appear, then the other, like a hypnotist’s pendulum, a rhythmic repetition in which a trance-like state was succumbing his mind so he thought of nothing. He would occasionally break the trance to look up, scan the surroundings to confirm he was heading in the right direction. Trees for landmarks, each of which looked the same. He was aware of only one thing, put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Don’t look back and don’t go back. His adrenaline was alive, driving him on. He knew if he got caught he’d go under. Impotent and defenceless in the hands of what he now knew was an enemy. An enemy afraid of a fair fight. An enemy that will deceive and lead him into a false sense of security then strike. My guard will not lower next time.

  The trees were as still as a landscape painting, no breeze yet his cheeks were like ice. Breathing was becoming heavy and hard but it was an unfit barrier to stand in the way of his determination to evade capture. Keep moving.

  The white light of the celestial body highlighted an outline of each individual tree. The leafless birches were tall and strong. Branches reached out in all directions. Draping twigs would spread further still, like long fingers reaching out for him. The wood was silent, the odd noise of a disturbed nocturnal creature was his only company. A fog slowly rolled in, misty patches among the trees would haze vision, some areas denser than others.

  He felt safe in this environment. The fingers of the birches reaching out, a supportive hand on the shoulder. The creatures hiding in the shadows, friends not foes. The hazy fog, a gentle veil for him to disappear into. Safe. The fingers of the ward clawing him. The creatures hiding in the shadows within its walls. The fog of conniving conjured by the doctor. Keep moving.

  Daniel leaned up against a tree as he gathered his bearings, his breath flowing out into the moonlight. The breaths were short and sharp to take in oxygen. Heart pounding, the sound reverberating in his head. He could feel the blood pumping around his body. The iced air smothered his fingers, suffocating the nerves in the skin until they were numb. The blood beneath the surface at war with the cold battling to keep his digits warm. Daniel slowed his breath, taking air deeper, through the nose and slowly exhaling out of the mouth. The energy was wasted exiting his lungs so he cupped his hands around his lips, the warm air bringing feeling back to the tips of his fingers. He began to run once more until he reached the road. Small cottages to his left could be used for cover if needed. Before starting along the road cover was required. A car once again travelling slower than usual along the country lane. He hid in a front garden, pressed up to a bush as the danger passed. What if the police are there when I get home? They won’t believe me if I tell them. They will bring me back. Maybe they will arrest me and put me in a cell. I will happily sit in a cell for the night. I would trust anywhere but there, any other hospital, so long as Dr Cribson isn’t pulling the strings.

  “Can I have a look around?” the officer asked Dominique.

  “Yes, sure,” she replied. The detective walked down the hall to check Daniel’s bedroom. He looked around the room but no sign of the escaped patient. He made his way throughout the property before returning to the kitchen where Dominique awaited news.

  “Not in the house,” he said.

  “I have been here the whole time. I don’t think he will try to hide,” said Dominique.

  “He might be worried that we will return him to the ward,” he said.

  “He was desperate to get out of there. They refused to let him out,” she said.

  “He clearly was desperate to get out,” said the officer.

  “He was. I’ve never seen him like that,” she said. “He looked scared, it shocked me.”

  “Does he not have a history of involvement in the mental health service?”

  “No, but I can understand why he wanted to leave,” she said, “I was only there for a few minutes and I wanted to leave.”

  “Well he did a good job of leaving,” he said. “It’s just a matter of whether he will be spooked by a police presence.”

  “I doubt he will,” she said. “He may be happy to see the police.”

  “It’s an unusual course of events,” he said whilst peering into the garden. “I will check the garage.”

  “I will unlock it for you.” Dominique led the way to the garage door. On her unlocking the padlock the officer entered. A weights bench and a few boxes. The detective had a close eye for detail and scanned the garden next.

  “Is there a field over the back?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He gazed over the fence. “There’s no way of knowing. I’ve parked the car around the corner so not to scare him off. Logic says he will come from that direction,” he said, pointing west. “I think he’s avoiding the roads. He may come a different route. It’s longer, but there’s less chance of detection if he heads out and comes back from that way,” he said pointing east.

  “Maybe,” said Dominique.

  “Which means he will see the car. It’s off-road but he may see it. I hope it doesn’t spook him because the consensus is he can stay here tonight.”

  “He’ll be so pleased,” she said with her hand on her heart.

  “We have arranged it with the ward. Where they go from here is their choice,” he said. “He was there voluntarily but if they now get him sectioned then he has to stay.”

  “I hope they don’t,” she said.

  “Let’s go back in the warm, you look frozen,” said the officer.

  As they closed the door behind them Dominique began to shake. She prepared the kettle for a cup of coffee. The officer stood by the window, peering out occasionally.

  “Would you like a coffee?” she asked. “I need one to warm up.”

  “No, thank you,” he replied. He looked in deep thought, processing information. Like a cop from a noir classic he questioned everything.

  “
It’s unusual. It doesn’t add up,” he said. He appeared to want to know more.

  “The whole thing is definitely unusual,” said Dominique.

  Daniel stopped to catch his breath for a moment. The collective pain of his side, the back of his head, the soreness of his neck all became evident again. Adrenaline had subsided and feeling returned. The laceration was small but was now noticeable. My heels are aching. His heels felt like they had been smashed with a solid object.

  The respite was brief, he moved again. Nearly home. With only a few hundred yards left to go he heard propellers in the distance. The sound travelled through the silence. It was the first time he had looked back. The helicopter was hovering over toward the hospital, a vivid beam flowing to the ground. He continued, a car in a dirt track caught his attention. Shit, the police must be waiting for me. It means my family know, I have to let them know I’m okay. Mum will be worried sick. Outside the front door Daniel took a deep breath. Here we go. Daniel entered. Dominique heard the door and flew out of the stool and ran to the door. She hugged him.

  “I don’t want anything more to do with those people. I can’t go back. I will go somewhere else if I have to.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Dominique. The officer standing behind his sister smiled at him.

  “I apologise for the inconvenience,” said Daniel. “I was hoping I could make it home before the search reached the extent it obviously has.”

  “No need to apologise. You’re home. You’re safe. That’s all we were called for,” the officer said.

  “I could see you were here,” said Daniel.