Derelict

The Innocent Escape Trouble - Part B

Chapter Twenty Four - Part B

With his hands now cooperating, Bryan levered himself to a sitting position and swung his legs to the side. He slid from the gurney only to realize too late he could not yet support his own weight and crashed to the floor. His face smacked into the tile with a wet, meaty sound and a blossom of pain exploded in his head.

Not the auspicious start to the daring escape he had been shooting for.

He noticed his clothes hanging from a hook on the wall and he sniped his way over, pulling himself up onto the adjacent chair. He never realized how difficult it was to move around using nothing other than his arms for locomotion. It was exhausting.

He yanked the clothes off the hook and begged his legs and feet to come back to life. They tingled and burned while he concentrated on forcing them to move. His nakedness left him with a feeling of vulnerability so he struggled and squirmed into his clothes, looking and feeling like a snake molting its skin in reverse. This proved equally tiring.

After expending all this effort, sensation and movement had returned to the point he felt confident enough to risk standing once again. He was wobbly but stable enough to take a few steps. He glanced around the room hoping to locate a weapon, but there was nothing other than medical files and vial after vial of drugs labeled with indecipherable words and cryptic symbols and acronyms. None of it made any sense.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway reminding him that Mr. Sanchez would soon be coming through that door with an alien in tow. Bryan knew he had to move. A confrontation with an alien would be less than pleasant in his current weakened state. He eased open the door and only when he realized the hallway was clear did he release the breath he had been holding. His heart raced. Sanchez or anyone could come strolling through the building at any time and he was powerless to defend himself. He wandered the maze of corridors and hallways, ducking into vacant rooms and closets when hearing anyone approach.

He soon became lost in the labyrinth, trying different hallways at random and hoping one would lead to the outside. Voices sounded from around the corner, heading his way. With his forward path cut off and nothing behind but a dead end, he had no choice. He ducked through a door looming to his right and prayed nothing lurked behind it.

The voices passed by the other side of the door and he leaned against it with his breath ragged and his heart racing, listening for any alarm. He grew calmer as the moments passed and felt his strength returning but feared a ten year old with a bad attitude could take him down. With each of his actions entailing herculean efforts he felt disjointed and awkward, moving like a puppet dangling from a string.

Yet no alarm sounded and his anxiety continued to ease.

He glanced around the room, curious about the variety of gadgets before him, most of which he had never before encountered. Worktable after worktable filled the room, each littered with alien gear and equipment in various states of disrepair. Random shop lights illuminated different stations and highlighted the project at hand.

Bryan picked his way through the room, drawn by the opportunity to examine the artifacts yet heedless of the imminent danger should someone barge through the door. Everything seemed foreign and it was, after all. It had been designed for and by an alien race.

The sound of more voices and even some laughter lingered out in the hallway and he knew it would be mere moments before it was discovered that Doc had been drugged and he had escaped. But there was nowhere to hide.