The Great Escape

von Marcus Krug

I shouldn’t be doing this. Not at all. I’m not allowed to remove myself from the premises. The head nurse had pointed out, only yesterday. What am I doing here, then?!

Ah, there you go. I’m on my way into town. That’s what I’m doing here. You see, my memory isn’t always serving me well these days. Not with all this daily cocktail of pills, anyway. To be honest with you, I’m still looking for a way to get off the premises. And then I might be going into town, because I haven’t been there in a while. Pubs and all, you know?! But first things first.

I’ve sprained my ankle when I jumped out of the window in my room. On the ground floor. For a moment, I was a bit disoriented, but now I’m okay again. Also, the sludge from the bed of flowers under the window has made my indoor slippers a bit clunky.

“Linus, where are you! Are you okay!”

That’s one of the nurses. And Linus, that’s me, of course. The voice I just heard is from the one with the big and hairy hands. Pete is his name, I guess. He helped me dress tonight. He called it my pyjamas, but I wouldn’t call it that.

Out in the gardens it is pitch black. The lights have already been turned off. But I know that close to the gates and along the fences to the outside there are motion detectors connected to floodlights. Here is no light at all, though. I can’t be anywhere near the free world, then.

Shhh … it! I trip and roll, head over heels, down a little slope behind the main building. Given my temporary limitations, there is almost nothing to stop me. … Oh, there is. A thorny hedgerow. It hurts awfully. Some scratches, but I somehow manage to get back on my own two feet again.

No rest for the wicked. I’m up and running once more. My eyes still have problems adjusting to the light conditions out here. Behind the big oak tree, though, a crescent moon provides just enough light for me to see some autumn leaves being whirled around by a gentle gust of wind. Their nice pale colour attracts me and I follow them. I’m filled with the wish to touch them. But the pills are still restraining me. I’m after the leaves, admiring their beautiful autumn dance, when out of nowhere one of the mighty oak tree’s strong arms knocks me out with a precise upper cut. Darkness descends quickly upon me, and a huge wave of pain, also.

When I come back to myself, the moon is hidden behind a thick cloud. I’m fed up with this whole escape thing. I had something entirely different in mind. But behind what seems like a corner of a house, I see a gleam of light.

Yes, there’s a light. And there’s a minivan right in front of me. But also, next to the entrance of the main building. Even with no one around, it’s risky. But I’ve suffered enough. And this is tempting; the driver’s door is open and the seat is empty. I start running. My eyes are scanning the ground for potential trip hazards. With a big leap, I jump inside and onto the driver’s seat. Clumsily enough to make the door close behind me, once my weight’s momentum impacts the seat.

In the van, I see that the seats are taken up by other inmates. Sorry, patients. All of them are sleeping. Except for one.

“Hey Linus!” it is him, one of the old guys in the asylum. I don’t know how old. But he keeps talking about the war a lot. Claims to be the only eye witness left. Of a war in Russia. Against Napoleon.

“Hey Mikhail, what are you guys up to here tonight?” but the moment it is out, I realise that this was a stupid question.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, so please keep this confidential. Okay?!” and without hesitation he continues, “The high command sends me and my small unit on a secret mission.” he comes closer to me from behind, cups both of his hands around his mouth and my left ear, and adds, “To assassinate that Corsican fiend. This is big, believe me. This is huge!”

While I’m listening to Mikhail, I see the key in the ignition and my heart beat quickens. But my hands won’t listen to my mind’s orders. The pills? I can’t reach the keys. And then I see him.

Pete is coming out of the main building, straight over to the van’s offside. I can’t get my hands to obey me and open the door to escape. But for some reason, I think that diving into the passenger seat’s foot well is an adequate solution to Pete’s imminent arrival at the car. So, I throw myself over the centre console and manage to relocate myself head first into the leg room underneath the glove department. My mud caked feet, however, still stick out when Pete opens the driver’s door.

“Hi Pete.” Mikhail says. I keep quiet, though, hoping not to be discovered in my unlikely hideout.

“Hi Linus.” Pete says, ignoring Mikhail completely, walks around the van and abruptly opens the passenger door. I roll out and drop onto the gravelled driveway. I know instantly that this is where it all ends.

Pete lifts me up, puts me back on my feet, and pads the driveway’s dust off my shoulders.

“Linus, Linus, we’ve been worried sick because of you. Where have you been all night?” Pete says, puts a shot into my left arm and squeezes its content into my bloodstream. And while my whole body gets wobblier with every second, I collapse onto Pete’s shoulder. Then he simply says, “Don’t do this to us, again! And, of course, to yourself! You’ll only get hurt in that straightjacket of yours.”