THIRTEEN
“Tracy is the only woman for me,” Fitz declared as the small box showed animals wearing clothes. A few of the people watched while others ambled back and forth across the room.
“The one who cleans?” Connor looked at Fitz, who was smiling so wide he looked like he belonged here.
“Yes, and she’s going to help us escape.”
Glad tidings indeed. For Connor would not spend a score of years locked away. In his time at Mint Hill, he had learned many things, needed the knowledge to fit in when he escaped, for he would never give up his freedom again.
Connor took the knife he had fashioned from the plastic spoon they gave him to eat with. He had watched a great deal of television. At first he couldn’t understand how the tiny people lived inside the box, until Fitz told him they weren’t real people, only a reflection, like on a loch. Though Connor occasionally found himself touching the screen and talking to them. He’d heard other residents talk to the small people as if they could hear and understand, but they never spoke back, only to each other.
Electric light fascinated him. There were two switches the patients were permitted to control, and he turned them on and off until some of the people screamed and tore at their hair, beseeching him to stop. The rest of the light switches were covered with clear boxes, so he could not make them go on and off. He had been learning the names of things and the proper way to speak so he would fit in and no one would ever send him back to a place like Mint Hill. Connor would sooner die than spend his days trapped in this hell.
The men in white were called orderlies. There were other places like Mint Hill, but most people lived their lives never seeing the inside of such a terrible place. Every day Connor asked Fitz questions, learning more about this place and the time he now called home. After looking around to make sure the orderlies weren’t watching them, Fitz motioned him over. Connor turned the lights back on, and a few men clapped as he bowed and skipped over to his friend. While he despised acting witless, Fitz said ’twas important so the nurses and others did not find out they were no longer swallowing the medicine every day.
“Did you get the key?”
“I did. Tracy gave me a copy. She says it will free us.” Fitz had smoothed his hair down so ’twas not sticking out from his head as usual.
“What did you have to do, Fitz? Did you tup her?”
“She is a fine woman and has promised we will be together when I am free. My Tracy used to have a very important job, made lots of money. But she had some problems and could not handle the stress, so now she cleans this place. Though no more—she will leave for me, no longer work here, but not until long after we escape so as to not arouse suspicion, and then we will be together. I’m going to ask Tracy to marry me.”
Connor slapped him on the back. “Aye, take the lass to wife. I believe you will enjoy taking her to bed as well.”
Fitz turned pink, pursing his lips. “You should not say such things about my bride to be.”
Connor inclined his head. “My pardon to you and your betrothed.”
All they had to do now was wait until three fifteen today, when the door that would lead them to freedom was unguarded. Fitz stood up, yelling out a string of numbers as Connor bit his lip to keep from chuckling. This was his friend acting as he did every day. The word was normal.
“I demand to be let out. Do ye hear me?” he bellowed, and stomped about as he’d done every day since he arrived. They made it through lunch, and Connor ate two helpings, not knowing when he would have another meal once they were free. Fitz assured him they would have food to eat and clothes to wear, so no one would know they were escaped. An alarm would sound when the orderlies discovered they were gone, and people would be looking for them outside the walls.
When they escaped, they were to go to Tracy’s home and wait for her. She would then help them go where they wished.
The clock struck three, and Connor watched as the hands moved so slowly that he wanted to take a sword and strike the clock from the wall. Why did people in the future mark time in such small increments? They were obsessed with time when they could not control it, so why bother? Why did they not simply wake with the sun and go to sleep with the moon?
The future was a strange place. He would see outside the walls and then go home where he belonged. To ride his horse and hide from the Armstrong, worry over the price on his head, ’twas better than being here. There wasn’t enough land or blue sky. When he looked out the window in the great hall, all he saw were tall buildings made of metal and what Fitz explained was concrete. The future was cold and cramped. Connor had seen not a single horse nor patch of grass.
Connor kept his head down, slowly making his way across the room, stopping to knock over the chess pieces of the three men who every day sat in front of them, staring at the pieces. The orderly yelled at him, and he shrugged.
“I needs water.”
The man pointed around the corner.
“You know where it is, McTavish. Go get it yourself. I’m not your maid.”
He made his way around the corner and, when the guard wasn’t looking, crossed the hall to the door, where he met Fitz.
“Hurry, man. The bloody orderly will be coming to check on me.”
The key slid into the lock, and Connor released his breath when the door opened. They were almost free. This corridor, instead of being a pale green, was a pale blue, no doubt to keep everyone calm, though personally, if they wanted to keep everyone calm, they should’ve had large windows looking out on trees and green. That always made him feel better. And preferably water, so that they could listen to a rushing stream or a loch.
There was no one in the corridor, and they ran down the hall, for Tracy had assured them they would have five minutes to reach the next door. The key would unlock it too, and then one more door between them and freedom. The room the key would open had a door that opened to the outside.
The door was number 112. Voices echoed down the corridor as they were checking each door. As the door opened and they slipped inside, a man and woman passed by, talking about their lives. Connor and Fitz stayed quiet, not moving as they waited to be sure the man and woman were gone and would not find them.
It was only then that they looked around the room. ’Twas full of boxes, covered in dust, as if no one had been there in a very long time. Fitz’s betrothed had said it was a storage room of old records, and no one went in there anymore now that they used computers. The owners didn’t even have her clean this room.
Connor lifted the boxes, pushing Fitz away. The man had tried to lift one and almost dropped it, making a loud noise Connor was sure would get them found out. They could not risk discovery, not now when they were so close to freedom. He cleared a path and they found a bag hanging on the door. When they took it down and opened it, they found clothes for them to change into. Tracy was a fine woman, and Fitz was fortunate to have found her. She was not like Melissa, who had watched the men in blue take Connor away to this place, though he thought she had looked sad when he called to her for aid.