Z201SITEBMACHINESHOPORPRISON

Escape from Prison

We were outcast, forced to spend our days working in the heat and grease of the machine shop. Our eyes, not quite yellow, but more metallic gold, gave way to suspicion of the other workers…..just as it should have. We were not like the others, and yet we were. All locked in the small premises of the building surrounded by the deafening humming and shrieking of the machinery we operated and created. My brother, John and I, were prisoners at work. Each day was spent designing weapons for a cause unknown and untold to the workers. My brother and I, well we had always been skilled with our hands, but after the tests….it was like our senses were heightened. Yet all around us friends, fellow workers, and strangers alike would disappear at night, only to return the next day with less awareness than the day before. Zombie-like creatures roamed the Base where we were stationed; in the land of Charleston, South Carolina where winter was only a fantasy. It was hardly bearable, to those of us cursed with working through the heat of the day. Strange things had been happening throughout the base. We weren’t sure what happened to those who disappeared, or how we even happened to get stuck in the infirmary where we were now.

One day, two years ago, John and I awoke to the suffocating, sterilizing smells in beds other than our own. All of a sudden two nurses with pale white skin and piercing black eyes rushed in the room; one checked our temperatures, while the other pricked our fingers with those cursed little needles taking blood. But as soon as they had arrived, they left. Each and every day since, they perform the same routine, sometimes accompanied by the doctor. To this day I do not even know the names of the two nurses. They are like ghosts, creeping in while consciousness has not fully arrived for the day ahead. After they left, John and I would report to the main dining room of the infirmary, to eat breakfast. Afterwards, along with the other machine shop workers, we were all ushered onto the small bus that rides over the dusty dirt roads the short distance to the shop. When we first began this routine, I made the mistake of asking one of the guards that rode with us why we didn’t just walk since it was such a short distance. In response, I was beat until my body was covered from head to toe in blood and bruises. But I can’t complain for myself, because John has it worse off. He was born a mute, unable to answer any questions the guards interrogated him with; he has been beaten on numerous occasions. Whenever I try to run in front of him, I am thrown off to the side, and he is beaten more severely. But life isn’t all bad on the base, rather, strange.

We are only allowed to go from the infirmary to the shop in the morning, and return back to the infirmary by sunset. The bus is our only means of transportation, while guards face us watching, daring anyone to challenge them. The rides are silent, except for the hum of the bus, and rattle of the wheels as they trudge over the rocky, dirt road that leads to the shop. We were to be in our stations by 7:00 each morning or more beatings would haunt us. All the bottom windows and the 2 doors are blocked and surrounded by the guards, as we were not allowed to leave except with the bus. Even through emergencies you are escorted by a guard back to the infirmary. But in the machine shop up above lay a small loft, with a low hanging ceiling.It was the same loft that became John’s and my only hope for escape from the prison. John was very fast in making weapons and small scale machines, the use after the shop, we were unsure of. Each day he would work through lunch fixing the maximum quota that was required of him. And then the real work began. I’m still not sure how he did it everyday, but John would fix extra weapons and pick up any loose part he could find and stored it in a hollow part of the floor up in the loft. I had fallen one day while putting something in storage stumbling across the hole…which I am sure no one but John and I knew about because none of our weapons ever went missing. We created such an immense storage of escape to arm ourselves there was almost no room left. We were rarely allowed to leave our post but somehow John always managed to scurry up to the loft and hide some object.

With sunset approaching, all the tools and machinery have to be put back in their places so we are ready to leave as soon as the bus arrives. When it comes, I’m shoved into a seat with John. The ride is silent home, yet the silence leaves uneasy feelings in everyone. Screams and shrieks have become the normal sounds trapped in our heads locked away for ever. Some nights I don’t think they will ever stop replaying in my brain. When we are in bed, sometimes I listen to the screams and moans of those in the hallway and try to imagine what their life was like before this agony. These thoughts often lead to remembrance of my life before the machine shop. And once the memories begin, I cannot stop the story from replaying over and over in my head.

Only two years before, John and I had found decent jobs working in the Annex that stood on a hill on the outskirts of the naval base. As twins we had always been close and his inability to talk only brought me closer to him. We lived together in a small apartment off base and found jobs in offices side by side in the annex. We would file all the paperwork and important legal documents that went with the base but were never allowed to read the documents. It was a straightforward job that helped pay us enough to live on. Life was simple, going to work every day; quiet, and easy. Almost too easy…until everything changed, and not necessarily for the better. It was a Tuesday morning, and I had been in my office for only about 2 hours before a dark haired man in a lab coat approached me and not uncertainly.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked trying to keep myself calm for John’s sake.

“I need you to come with me sir.” He replied in a gruff manor.

John hearing the commotion got up and approached us both, worry in his eyes. He always reacted quickly when anything happened to me. He tried grabbing at my wrist as the man pulled me away, but was quickly brushed off.“He will be fine sir, now step away.” said the man. John cautiously stepped away and I gave him a reassuring glance.

The man led me outside down the large staircase and towards a building separate from the rest of the annex.“Have I done something wrong?” I inquired. Surely I had not missed any reports or done wrong in my job. Silence followed my inquiry as the man stared straight ahead. His eyes showed the indifferent feelings he was most likely feeling towards me. He led me up to a second floor room of the adjacent building where we stood on an outside ledge in front of a door. By the door was a pad of numbers, buttons for what seemed like a pass code. All of a sudden everything around me went dark, as I felt my knees crumble beneath my weight.Images appeared, hazy, smudged. I heard a groan.

“Was that me?” I thought. A piercing pain shot through my left leg as I began to gain back consciousness. My arms and legs were strapped onto a table and when I looked over, I saw a large needle sticking out of my arm. A dark pasty blue liquid appeared to be entering from the IV into my arm. In the distance the dark haired man had his back to me, talking to a woman dressed as a nurse.

“The experiment is going marvelously, he should be up again in no time.” said the man.

“But what will he be able to do, will the fever not affect his ability to process things like the others?” replied the nurse.

The frei fever, is that what I had? I’d heard rumors about it that patients that contracted the fever had eyes that turned to a yellow gold color. They slowly began to lose their minds: 1st loosing the ability to remember simple tasks like closing doors, but eventually losing any idea of who they were or memories from their past.“I can’t possibly have the fever.” I thought. “Who will take care of John for me?” Suddenly the man began speaking again to the nurse. <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“We aren’t sure the number of things he’ll be able to complete, but his ability to do jobs has been heightened. His I.Q. should be raised immensely as compared to the others he has such a low amount of the fever, that his appearance will show signs but he will be more capable of thoughts than the others. But all this will be changed in a matter of days further work will take place in the infirmary.” <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Just then he looked back and noticed my awareness. He quickly walked over and injected something in my other arm. Soon my world was nothing but a veil of black again.It was not long after this time that I awoke to find myself in my new habitat of the infirmary.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">John I later found out had gone through similar tests, aware through small portions of the experiments. They seemed to have given us injections that proved to have opposite affects of the fever. All my senses were heightened. I could do tasks in twice the time as before and I never lost energy. After staying in our rooms for 3 days, our doctor finally appeared before us. He explained what was to happen to us.“As you know some tests have been performed on both of you. You probably feel different now am I right?” he paused but only for a second. “You both will be staying in the infirmary from now on. Everything you need has been brought over. And your new jobs will take place in the machine shop. Be ready to leave on the bus every morning at 6:30.”And with that he left the room before either of us could utter a question against him. He sealed the life that we are still living today, the life John and I are going to escape.I’ve often been curious what exactly happens at night to our fellow patients in the infirmary for every night holds the same sleepless worries. <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">So John and I returned to our room after working all day at the shop. Each night was the same routine. At 8:00 screams began to echo through the halls of forgotten memories and brief awareness’. It was impossible to sleep with the cries, fore you could feel the terror of each patient as they drifted slowly back into a state of unconsciousness losing any grip on reality that they held for minutes each night. By 10:00 the screams mixed with a new noise….ripping of the walls…Fingernails clawed at the walls opposite ours as our neighbors were dragged through the hallways by the nurses and attendants. They hands grabbed at nothing in a desperate attempt to save themselves from a danger unknown to me. <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I decided to sneak out one night just to watch and see where they were taken. Light poured in through the crack of the opened door. Whispered moans beckoned me back into the room as a drowsy John watched from his bed.“I’ll be back soon John.” I whispered.The walls usually a crisp clean white, lay in disarray as the wall paper hung haphazardly from the wall’s themselves. Checking to make sure the path clear I crept out of the slightly open door. Making sure it clicked shut I began to slide against the wall, stepping over shredded pieces of wallpaper and powdery white wall plaster. The infirmary had 4 long open halls that joined together at the corners. In each hallway lay the rooms of every patient. Every so often there lay a small alcove in the wall, which is where I found myself suddenly when the sharp click of heels brought me back to reality. I saw a nurse with curly brown hair walk past in a hurry until the sound of her heels stopped suddenly, but no door could be heard opening. Very cautiously I peeked around the corner and saw her standing, in the middle of the hallway looking at the floor. Suddenly the tile began to move up and then over revealing a dark hole in the ground. <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">There must have been stairs because she began to descend into the unknown underground world. As soon as I was sure I was alone, I raced over to the spot where she disappeared.“I bet this is where they take the patients. They probably do horrible experiments to them like they did to me and John.” I thought to myself.Before I could contemplate any longer voices began to approach in my direction. If I was caught out of my room I would surely be beaten…and then who could help John at work. So ever so quietly I tiptoed back to my room where my thoughts began to take over. You must realize that with a full mind, sleep is near impossible so I let my thoughts run wild.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“Could this all be some huge trap that we happened to be in the middle of?” <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“What happened to those poor people whose minds were intact one day and lost forever the next. Surely they will come after us too.” <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">And then I began to understand. They took patient and gave them higher IQ’s only to install the fever within their systems to take it all away. But why were these experiments taking place? I wasn’t sure. The realization hit home hard…we would be victims of the memory loss soon. The experimentation of I.Q. gain we had undergone was only the first process in their awful experiments. All of a sudden I understood that “If John and I were to escape, it would have to be tomorrow.”

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">After a particularly restless night John and I claimed our usual seats and I turned to face John speaking to him for the first time that morning. I had spent every waking moment planning the perfect timing for our escape. I addressed John in this manner “Today is the day John, Today is the day we will escape from prison. I need you to be ready, grab any weapon you can because after today we will be free.”I spent much time wondering how I would be able to alert John of the time of our escape and the answer came to me in the early morning rays of the sun. As machine workers we were surrounded by the loud hums and shrieking of machinery to where it was quite hard to speak to anyone across the room. So we became accustomed to tapping small wrenches and other items on the metal machines as way of communication. Certain noises coded for different meanings, but quick staccato like taps where John and my secret message, a warning that we had put in place for this very moment; the one word that kept up going “Escape”. <span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">We neared the machine shop and quieted down as to begin the day. John disappeared to the loft with a graceful speed that I lacked. I went to my post and began to work on the day’s quota. After what seemed like seconds he returned downstairs going unnoticed by the guards on duty. Most of them looked half asleep, trying to get accumulated to the day ahead. But we were on alert. Every motion was stiff and careful; I was quietly shaking with anticipation of our plan. We would soon be free ….that is if all went well.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Suddenly the room grew quiet, as if making a way for our escape. I quickly gave 3 quick taps against the machine, and glanced quickly over at John. He stared hard back at me ready to go. And then….I yelled “Nooooow!” and began sprinting, dodging my way through the room. I looked back only one time to see John keeping a close pace to my own. Anything that resembled a human in my way I hit with a wrench. Blood flew through the air, as the crack and sobs of broken noses, and arms rang through the room. “This is it,” I thought. We were inches from the door, freedom a taste away except, all of a sudden a guard flew out of nowhere, the gray costume a blur in the race against time. He stood braced with his arms, out his bare hands ready to grab at me but we had the upper hand here. There were two of us and one of him. So almost in sync John and I raised the weapons we had and charged the man trampling him as we broke down the door. And then all I could feel beneath my feet was the cool grass, desperately grabbing at my ankles.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I heard the shuffling of John behind me and loud voices shouting directions. And suddenly a piercing shot sounded followed by a thump. Still running I chanced a look behind me to a horrific scene of John’s crumpled figure on the wet earth. Horrified I started back in the direction of my brother, until a heartbreaking cry came deep within the companion of my troubles. He gave a slight motion with his hand beckoning me to continue to safety as slowly his eyes closed and his body went limp. My brother was dead.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I sprinted in a direction unknown through the open fields. Doctors, guards and nurses alike tried to follow but the distance between was too much for them. I knew I could not be caught; I ran for freedom, of myself and John, for the freedom of those imprisoned in the depths of their minds, and for the freedom of those on the verge of escape. Cool winds whipped at my face as tears of sorrow for John mixed with a layer of sweat against my exhausted body. I ran through open fields and walked through town centers as not to draw too much unwanted attention to myself. I had no set course and no idea where I would end up but nothing could worry me anymore. I don’t know how long I ran, the sky slowly grew dark as the day turned to night. Street signs were like a blur in my mind through the haze of gloom that took hold of me. My course was like a mystery even to myself.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“All this time, I believed John needed me, when really I need John more than he ever knew”. I said quietly, the mysteries of life filled my mind as I had all the time to think. After what seemed like hours of walking I became extremely breathless. I began to shudder relentlessly moving between hot flashes and cool shiver’s. My world began to fade in a dark mist as I neared the soft grassy earth…until complete darkness.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'times new roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“Uhhhhh” a searing pain shot through my arm, which felt bulky and awkward. My head began to throb as I lifted it to try and examine the damage done to my arm. A beige colored cast lay wrapped around from my elbow down to the tops of my fingers. I must have fallen pretty hard on it. Below I heard a muffled collage of voices, and footsteps that sounded close, but I couldn’t be sure of anything because my head was so mixed up. An older man and woman entered the room and came to me quickly when they realized I was awake. “You took a nasty fall there young man. We found you passed out cold on the field that’s overlooked by our picture window. You’ve been out, as far as we know for 3 days.” said the old man.The woman with a much more tentative fashion approached me” we washed your old clothes and gave you some of Mr. Thomas’s outfits, it’s a little big but it will do. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The small mansion they lived in lay beside the ocean on a hill. The trees were dressed for fall with brilliant orange and reds. The building itself was hardly adorned with decorations but rather plain looking, as if not to draw attention to itself. In front lay a porch that overlooked a brick walk way. The picture window on the side of the house overlooked the bottom of the hill where a small field lay and the oceanfront next to the field. The rooms inside the house were just as plain as the outside. But the plainness mimicked the simple life of the man and woman.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Thus began my life with the Thomas’s, a quiet old couple who minded their business but gave me access to anything I needed in the house. Life fell into a steady routine after my arrival; both were retired and never asked questions about my life before, during The Event as it had become known to survivors. I learned through newspapers that not long after my escape many others’s worked their way to freedom from the prison’s of the navy base.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">After much deliberation I finally decided to request the one favor I asked of my patron’s; for some way to allow other victims the opportunity to enter the very house I stayed in after escaping. Again they agreed without questions. I believe the man and woman who took me in, and fed me like their own child knew deep down what I went through. John was never mentioned but everything that occurred through the event stayed on the front cover of the newspaper. Despite suspicions I’m sure they had, I was never turned away but taken in as their own. So I went to work installing a cross within the bricks in the front sidewalk area in front of the plain mansion.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">The cross was a design I’m sure any victim of the event would recognize. It was symbol my fellow workers and I had created to resemble a hope and peace; a savior, to rally us through each and every miserable working day. The cross was drawn on walls and in the rooms of patients, everywhere. And only the workers of the base, and, victims of the fever, with enough awareness, knew what that cross meant. It was a compass pointing to safety for fellow escapees. I began to refer to the mansion's cross as "John's Cross" because one life was taken to save thousands more.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">In the three years that followed, the cross attracted over 30 men, 14 women and 10 children. Never more than 2 or 3 weeks at a time, the visitor’s stayed for a few weeks until they could return on their feet to the harsh realities of the world. By the end of my third year in what I regarded as my new home, the navy base had been completely abandoned. Government officials had stumbled across the experimentations of the scientists and carted many off to lifetime in jail. New scientists entered the base to study the vials of medicines and artifacts leftover from the event. Victims who could not venture far were taken in for extensive questions in regard to their treatment during this time.

<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I after long months of mourning and thinking finally decided to leave the only normal life I had lead in years. With a tearful goodbye I left the welcoming and open home of the Thomas’s to make a new life for my own. (I tried 6 years later to return for a visit but found that the house was abandoned and beginning to rot from poor care. The only thing that remained from my past was the big picture window and cross engraved in the ground.) Today I work in a small office area and live by myself. It’s been 10 years since I made the final escape, and ten long years of missing John. But without that experience I would not be where I am today in life……Free with the escape from prison.



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