And so I did, my feet flashing over the ground with a speed as yet unknown to me. I had no direction, just away. I listened for the Jack creature behind me, knowing at any moment I’d feel those teeth rip into my flesh. But no teeth came. No sounds for several blocks. And still I ran, my breath focused and even. This was my life I was running for, and no other thoughts intruded. My arms flowed seamlessly by my sides; my stride was long and elegant. Eventually I came upon people, groups of them. They all stopped to stare, open-mouthed, at my passing.
“Hey, look out!” came an indignant voice.
I had brushed up against someone and knocked him aside. I thought about stopping to warn him about what was behind me, but didn’t. Home, I thought. Run toward home. Home is safe. No more thoughts, my mind replied. Just one goal for now. Run toward home. I glided for several miles in that suspended state, faces flashing past, not one registering for long. Home.
By the time I reached my apartment building, I was dripping with sweat but was still moving like a robot. Up the elevator, down the hall. It was empty. Good. Once in my apartment, I closed the door with my voice command, and ordered the door to lock. I double checked the locking mechanism, then laughed at this. If one of those things wanted in, it would get in.
I continued to laugh, and it took on a hysterical edge. Stop it! I forced myself to the cabinet, took out a bottle of whisky and a prescription for anxiety the Facility had given me upon leaving. “Use these sparingly,” Eva had warned me, and, unheeding, I took four pills. The warm calm overwhelmed me within minutes, but not before I went into the bathroom, crawling now. It was a small room, the air still moist from my shower. This was safe, I thought, and I became fetal. My thoughts were swirling from the drug and the stiff shot of booze, but one clearly stood out. If Jack wanted to get in, he could. The door was programmed to recognize his voice.
After a night of waking and fitful dozing, I went through the motions of making coffee, the gray light of early morning edging over my countertop. It felt soothing to go through everyday motions, so I started cleaning my already pristine apartment. That way, I didn’t have to think. I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, falling into a rhythm. Stroke the wood, stop the thoughts. Polish the furniture, ignore the feelings. I watched my hands move back and forth over a gleaming surface, not wanting to ever stop. Stop, and reality waited. Better to just stay busy.
But soon I ran out of areas to clean. I looked toward my bathroom, debating a shower. A sharp knife of pain sliced through my gut. It’s where we had shared a sink. Did he need a sink, where he was now? Stop it! Make more coffee. Soon I was sitting with the coffee, my restless hands grasping the hot mug as a lifeline to sanity. I stared out the window, my eyes never settling for long on any one thing. Keep them moving, that was the trick. But I needed to call someone, didn’t I? I needed help. But who would help me? What could they do? Did anyone know?
Once the dam of thoughts was broken they began to flood me. My head clamoring for solutions, all I could do was turn on the news. Eyes heavy like granite, I stared at the screen. The reporter wasn’t as composed as she usually was. Neither were the people in the streets.
“Reports of numerous wild animal attacks are coming in from all over the city, and around the world. It remains to be seen if these attacks are linked to recent disappearances. Stay tuned for further coverage.”
A shot of a woman, her eyes wild. “They’re coming for all of us! Nothing is what it seems! There’s blood everywhere, open your eyes!” She screamed, and they cut away. Can’t have a city-wide revolt, now, can we? I mused. Maintain the calm, keep the peace. Speaking of which, where were those Obedience Officers? Nowhere to be found.
An image arose of Jack twirling my hair in his fingers. I thought my intestines were being torn out by a long claw. Those claws on those creatures. Is that what it would feel like? If Jack got hold of me? Those things were part human, I realized suddenly, just like Jack. I felt ready to vomit. All of them, they had been people. I stood up, wooden. No answers were to be found here, and if there were any, I’d have to go the forest to find them. How had Adam known I’d need his help so quickly? I took out my computer, and spoke: “Map.”
My voice sounded foreign. An image arose, which trains to take, which trails to trek to reach the group of refugees that were out there. Refugees is what they were—right? I needed to pack. I’d pack for a while, I thought. Take your time with selecting and folding, I told myself. That would require a chunk of time; that would provide some movement. I could do that, and then … And then I’d go to the train, leave this place. There was nothing left here, not anymore.