TERRIFIED 

His very first conscious though was that he was awake. And that was all—

He was awake. For some reason his mind could not consider anything else—He was awake.

He seemed to be lying comfortably but his eyes were shut and at first he found that he could not open them. His mind said—he was awake. It felt important that he was awake.

It was not a thought but a feeling that it was unnaturally quiet.

He did not panic yet.

And still his only thought was that he was awake.

A deep half conscious sense, edged with anxiety, held him back from opening his eyes.

He was awake.

That simple fact seemed to be embracingly all important.

He was awake.

Then from nowhere a wave of sheer panic threatened to overwhelm him.

He was awake—and what that implied he had no idea.

And he found that he still had no other thought other than he was awake.

Even this thought was more of a sensation than an idea.

Why was his mind devoid of all activity—it was empty—scarily, frighteningly empty. Again he still had no other thought than that he was awake.

`TAKE CONTROL’—it was just a sensation—but—it seemed like an order.

He was awake—there was an implication in the statement.

Then—

A new thought—It burst upon him like a flash of lightening—he must do something—BUT WHAT?

`HE MUST OPEN HIS EYES’

This idea came with a shock on a wave of sheer, fearful, desperate panic.

Fear was a sensation that was to become very familiar to him.

It took some courage but he gently rubbed his eyes—and light was streaming in from somewhere. At first he could not identify from where—You are awake, said his mind.

And then he began to wonder why could he not think of anything else but that he was awake.

He overcame this new panic but he knew it was just below the surface.

He shut his eyes to shut out the light. The light that was urging him to do something, but what? He let his head, which had begun to hurt, sink back into the soft pillow.

It was then that he found a reluctance to open his eyes again and face whatever he was afraid of.

`BUT YOU MUST’,—said his mind—because you are awake.

It hit him like a shock. Like a blow to his stomach. He was almost sick and panic rose to the surface again, and was squashed with something of an effort.

He had not the slightest idea where he was.

Then even worse he had no idea about anything.

His mind held nothing, no memory, no images—NOTHING.

And then—who was he?—he had no idea and felt panic rise again.

Then real terror took over, his mind ceased to cope, and he drifted back into that comfortable oblivion from which he had just been awakened and from which he was even now being nudged.

`YOU ARE AWAKE’

This time it could not be ignored.

I AM AWAKE he acknowledged and opened his eyes.

What he saw frightened and bewildered him, but now he really was wide awake, and was able to see.

At first he could not take in everything he saw, and what he did take in puzzled and frightened him. He registered that he was lying on a bed under a warm blanket in a large room comfortably equipped with built in bedroom furniture.

Daylight, or what he took to be daylight streamed in through a large window lighting the room with a warm glow. The walls were plain apart from a painting on the opposite wall of a forest scene. It, and everything in the room was gently coloured by the sunlight.

It was a room, he was certain, that he had never seen before and yet it seemed strangely familiar.

He shut his eyes again and tried think.

Suddenly he felt overwhelmingly tired, closed his eyes, and again fell back and drifted into that sleep from which he had so recently awakened.

But this time his mind was not still. Questions pervaded his dreams. Who was he? Where was he? How did he get there? Where was this place? Had he gone mad? Is there anyone else here? How does he get out of this?

But there were no answers.

*              *              *

`YOU ARE AWAKE.’

Here we go again he thought and opened his eyes.

`ACTION.’ He must do something or go steadily mad.

`GET UP.’ The floor was comfortably warm as his bare feet touched it. Until then he had not realised that he was naked.

He decided that naked or not he would begin by exploring his immediate environment.

Once round the room and he found clothes in the wardrobe, all the usual essentials on the dressing table, an open door led to a well appointed bathroom with a walk in shower, and another to a toilet. Yet another door, this time shut, he attentively opened and found that it led out into a corridor.

He made a decision, and felt that he had made a big step forward, but it was simply to shower and to dress. It was only after he had done this that he ventured to look out of the window.

He panicked again, and was almost sick. The window was blank, a strong light came into the room but he could see nothing—absolutely nothing out of the window.

What the hell was going on?

Where was this place?

And just what was he doing there?

His legs felt too weak to support him, so he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think.

*              *              *

It slowly became clear to him that his memory really was a blank so he decided that for the time being he would set that to one side and concentrate on his present situation. He needed some positive action and so he resolved to start by exploring beyond his immediate environment.

Gathering the remnants of courage he opened the door which led to the corridor and turned left (he could have chosen either way) and in a few yards he found several other doors one of which was ajar and led to a brightly lit and very well appointed kitchen.

The sight made him realise that he was desperately hungry. A cupboard held everything he might fancy and the fridge was stocked with long life milk and a good selection of frozen foods. But first he made a dash for the window only to sink back in cold fear—as with the bedroom he could make out nothing of the outside.

He let the sensation wash over him and began to prepare his breakfast.

*              *              *

He had a good breakfast. He had not lost his appetite, and felt somewhat more composed. He had no idea where he was but he was now determined to get out whatever the consequences.

 

[Editor’s note—`he’ is always referred to as `he’—this is inevitable since he does not recall his name and we do not know it either.]

 

He found that the place was quite large with several rooms each having a specific purpose.

There was—A large and well appointed library with two comfortable arm chairs and a settee, a loaded drinks cabinet, and a desk whose surface was empty but for writing equipment.

There was a long dining room with accommodation and a table for eight people laid with eight places.

There was a very comfortable lounge with an artificial coal gas fire.

There was a large bathroom with bath and a shower as well as a WC.

And there was a sizeable conservatory in which grew flowering plants as well as tomatoes and peppers. There was comfortable seating in here for six people.

All in all the place was excellent accommodation suitable for an extensive stay—the knowledge of which triggered that debilitating panic again.

The realisation that there appeared to be no way of reaching the outside caused him another wave of panic, this time accompanied by a wave of real fear.

 

HE WAS TERRIFIED

*              *              *

At first inspection there appeared to be no means of communicating with the outside world—no TV, no Lap-top, no phone, but he felt that there must be so he began a thorough search.

Reaching the outside world now had to be his top priority, in spite of the fact that he would not know where he was or where to go. Whatever he found would be better than spending the rest of his life in this confinement. It then dawned on him that he had as yet not come across anything that looked like a door to the outside world. When he left the bedroom he had turned left, the door he reckoned must be along to the right. He was so eager to find this that he almost ran past the bedroom and sure enough there it was THE DOOR and FREEDOM.

But he was doomed to be disappointed. It was heavy and reinforced with steel bars, and worse—the lock was a combination type with nothing but a key board. This on examination did not just have the number keys but also had an alphabetic one. He judged that the combination of numbers and letters would prove to be impossible to guess.

He sank to the floor and for the first of many times to come gave in to tears. Not yet tears of hurt and despair but tears of sheer frustration.

He sat there for a very long time, and wondered vaguely if anyone knew he was there and would in due course let him out.

It was then that he got another shock, he had no idea who would miss him. Did he have a wife? Children? A girl friend? He had no knowledge whatsoever of his background. Why? What on earth had happened to him?

How long would it be before anyone visited him? Were they looking for him even now? Why was this happening to him?

He tried to pull himself together. He had to approach his problems without panic and with logic. His first action in this positive mood was to go back into the room which he referred to as the lounge where he had noticed there was a writing desk. In this he found all the usual writing facilities including several good-sized pads of writing paper and an old tea mug full of pall point pens of different colours.

After some little thought he titled one of these `Diary’ and the other `Thoughts’. His plan was to write in these every day.

`Every day’ That was another problem. There were clocks, at least one in each room, but how would he distinguish between night and day? He guessed that the light which came in through the windows would gradually vanish. In the thoughts book he wrote—

`An idea—I can time the onset of darkness and of the return of light and will be able to guess which month of the year it was.’

Then—

`PS I need to get out of here not make plans for a long stay.’

Then—

`PPS My main priorities must be—

1. To recover my memory.

2. To escape.

Then he realised that he was very hungry and finding his way round the kitchen he assembled a pretty good meal for himself. There was beer too. After he would write in the diary that he was used to preparing meals. `It probably means that I have a domestic life outside.’ He added to the diary.

There was a TV in the lounge which when he spotted it gave him some hope of finding some reality. He reached out and switched it on but all it would show was old films. The books that sat on the shelves that covered one wall were all fiction.

After washing up the plates and things he decided on another tour of his accommodation but this time he would record everything he saw in full detail.

He felt very down after this which had taken the rest of the day. He had found nothing to clarify any single aspect of his confinement.

As the light from the windows began to fade, he found himself to be very tired. He switched on the TV and watched an old cowboy film, then went to bed.

*              *              *

`Day 2’ He wrote in the diary. `Slept well.’

After breakfast he had a shower and decided to have a go at tackling the combination locking pad on the outer door.

The first step was to write down all the combinations which he tried, and he began with just the numbers, choosing a row of eight digits.

This took him until lunch time without any success. He spent the afternoon sitting quietly simply trying to remember anything of his past life, the result of this was a vague feeling—a kind of physical sensation that he had a wife—that he was married.

He then realised that it was all there in his head—he just could not access it.

Several days went by in similar style. The feeling of having a normal family life grew stronger. But he persistently failed with the combination. The passing of such a long period made him realise that he could be in whatever this place was for a very long time.

PANIC

Yes, panic squeezed his vitals. This certainty brought a new wave of terror.

It would be with him all the time from now on.

HE MUST DO SOMETHING

So he looked everywhere for something heavy and strong enough to break down the door and escape.

However bad it might be outside—it must be better than being shut up in here all alone.

All he found was a stout sweeping brush—it would have to do.

He hammered the door with everything he had—it had absolutely no effect.

But he did do something—HE ACCIDENTALY SMASHED THE CODE LOCK PANNEL.

He almost passed out with the enormity of what he had just done—he just might have sealed himself in UNTIL HE DIED. Doomed never to see the outside world again.

Terror overwhelmed him yet again.

He was TERRIFIED.

Nothing to look forward to EXCEPT DEATH. Without knowing anything of his life.

He had not the will to eat or to turn on the TV. He lay on the bed and shed tears of frustration and despair.

The next few days passed without him leaving his bed. Believing that he would never know proper life again he had lost all interest. He felt that he might as well just lie there and wait for the end. There was no point even in contemplating making a will—he had no idea what he had to leave nor who to leave it to.

Depression had taken him over.

The days passed—he did not know how many.

He had abandoned the diary

Eventually in despair he noticed that the bed had a strong metal frame and with some difficulty managed to prize one side away.

He would give that bloody door a hammering and break out.

It must have been something like an hour of hammering without any sign of the door giving way.

He had no strength left and sank to the floor and allowed the terror to consume him.

HE HAD COME TO THE END OF HIS RESOURCES.

*              *              *

He had no idea how long he was there but the light had gone from the windows.

Then suddenly the passage became flooded with light—

THE DOOR WAS OPEN. AND THERE WERE PEOPLE.

He passed out.

*              *              *

Much later when he was recovering in hospital and his wife had been to see him—they told him—

`But it was your idea, your plan, you designed the building and volunteered to try it out.—

`IT WAS AN EXPERIMENT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A HUMAN BEING COMES OUT OF SEVERAL MONTHS OF STASIS.

`You insisted in being the subject yourself and you have been in stasis for twenty-eight days.

`If keeping the body frozen for any such length of time causes such drastic loss of memory, stasis is not the answer to inter-planetary travel,’ they said. And rated the experiment a success.

*              *              *

In time Allan Ray Brownly made a full recovery, and was honoured

In the King’s birthday honours list with a knighthood for his contribution to science.

But Sir Allan found it impossible to be in a room with its only door shut, sheer terror would overcome him. He eventually remembered that the door code was on a postcard taped to the underside of a kitchen unit, but he never did recollect the code itself.

 

JML

18/8/2011