Why Me? [ONC 2021]

10. The Betrayer

Through sheer emotion, I forced myself to open my eyes. The light was still too bright, I had to squint. Even so, I looked right into the eyes of my oldest friend. I immediately felt betrayed.

"Samar?" I said. My voice trembled and cracked. It was like I'd not spoken in a while, my throat felt dry and scratchy.

The man with the face of my friend laughed haughtily. "Ha! My name's not Samar," he spat. I had known Samar my entire life, our parents were friends first, and it made sense that so were we. We spent a lot of time with each other over the years.

Obviously in charge here, the person I thought I knew then turned to his colleagues, "Get him fastened down!"

It was then I realised I was being strapped onto a gurney. I was unable to move my ankles, they were held fast by the man I didn't recognise. The woman was getting frustrated trying to fasten a strap over my left wrist. Not-Samar, I had no other name for him, was holding my head in place.

I swung my free arm up and knocked the woman backwards. Not-Samar went to catch her and that left my head free. I reached over to my left and stared to undo the strap. At the same time I kicked out at the man holding my ankles. My heel connected with his face. He fell to his knees, blood streaming from his ruined nose.

By the time Not-Samar had picked up the woman, I'd freed my hand. I looked about and saw I was no longer in the white room, this appeared to be a long corridor. Ahead I could see an old fashioned exit sign, lit up in green. That was where I needed to go.

"Gordon," said Not-Samar, "come on now 'old friend'." The emphasis on 'old friend' made me cringe. He stood there with his hands out, his eyes darted to the man in the floor clutching his face, and whimpering.

The woman was looking at the man with the broken nose, but he waved her away. I looked for a way to defend myself and saw a mop standing in its bucket a couple of feet behind me. Keeping my eyes on Samar and the woman, I started to walk backwards to the mop.

"Don't be stupid now," said the woman as she stood and took a step towards me. She obviously saw what I was trying to do.

They were trying to get around me, surround me. I smirked. My foot then kicked the mop bucket, a tell-tale scrape of metal against a tiled floor. I reached behind and grasped the mop handle. With a quick swing, I brought the mop in front. The arc of my swing flung dirty water over both Not-Samar and the woman.

They both flinched at the water and I took that as my cue. I rushed forward, the mop held horizontally. I hit both Not-Samar and the woman with one end each. Samar got the mop head.

The handle snapped and I barrelled on through. Charging for the exit sign. The sign told me the way out was to my right, and I carried on running for the door.

I pushed the bar in the centre of the door and it moved easily away from me. The scene outside was unlike anything I expected.

It was sunny, there were some birds being fed a few feet away by a woman who looked like she'd not changed her clothes in days. The road was filled with old style cars not seen since the early twenty first century. People were everywhere, and no one was wearing a raincoat. It was warm, and no clouds were in the sky at all.

It was a bewildering sight.

The confusion was enough to stall me. Not-Samar had recovered, and he brought help. Two large hands gripped me tight around both of my biceps. I struggled and wriggled and knew almost immediately it would be hard to break free from these giant hands.

"Come on now, Gordon," said Not-Samar. His voice was soft and calming, his face showed no emotions.

"Help me!" I shouted, screamed, to a group of people passing by. No one looked.

"These people won't help you. They have their own lives to deal with," he said. His voice remained on the same level. The brute behind me didn't speak.

I still had half of the broken mop handle in my hand, I looked at the sharp, splintered end. Without another thought, I stabbed it, hard, into the thigh of the man holding my arms. He screamed in pain and grabbed his leg. I left the mop handle in the man's leg.

Immediately after he let go, I turned to a shocked Not-Samar, "I'm going. Don't try to stop me," I said.

Not-Samar backed away, hands raised in surrender. I nodded, and then ran.

I recognised the streets I was running along, but I didn't recognise any of the sights. The buses were being driven by people, not an auto-driver. No autocops were to be seen. I could see a couple of people standing in the corner dressed in black with yellow reflective vests. One had his back to me and I could see the word 'police' on his yellow vest.

I ran over and they looked at me with concern.

"Hey, hang on. Stand back, you've got no mask on," said one of them.

"Oh, sorry," I said and I patted my pockets looking for one. "I think I forgot it. Can you help me? I'm a little lost," I said.

"Sure," said the other police officer, "where are you going?" He eyes me with more than a little suspicion.

"I'm trying to get home. Brixton House. But I've lost my way," I said.

Brixton House was the name of my old family building. The one where I thought Samar lived.

"I'm not familiar with that one," said the first guy. "One sec, I'll look it up." He then pulled out a small tablet-like device that I didn't recognise and started to type. His colleague was looking at me intently.

It was then I realised I was dressed in what could only be described as a jogging suit. Not something I'd usually wear, but these guys would not know. I felt out of place in my white suit.

As I stood there I heard the radios of the police officers squawk and then a voice, "Control to all units. Breakout at TTT. Escaped patient. Considered dangerous."

"Received, Control," said the officer looking at me, while never taking his eyes off me.