Escapees

There was the screech of tires on pavement, a heavy thud, and the hasty opening of a car door. Out of the car lumbered a man wearing black shoes, white pants, and a white shirt--which make his pale skin look rather gastly, and left his black eyes (when they weren’t hidden behind an bird’s nest of greasy brown hair) to stick out like coals in a snowman. And it was those coal black eyes that the second man--the one that had been the source of the heavy thud--first saw upon awakening. Either the second man didn’t like being hit with a car, had a nightmare during the few seconds he was asleep, or really didn’t like snowmen; he shrieked and batted the first man away weakly. The first man only blinked and stuck out his beefy hand straight into the second man’s face. The second man grimaced, but reluctantly let the first man pull him up. The second man crossed his arms and glared at the first man expectantly. The first man stuck out his hand yet again, this time for a handshake. The second man hesitated, then complied as the first man offered, “I’m, uh… John. Yes, you should call me John. That’s what the people I used to know once called me, anyway. Pleased to be at your service.” 

The second man straightened his blue suit, snapping, “well, John, I’m Chuck. And you’ve chosen the wrong morning to mess with me. And for that, I might just sue you.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. I meant no harm. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to hit anyone.”

Chuck gestured towards the stop sign. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to be hit.”

“So we’re even?”

“No! We’re most certainly not. I’m going to need your information. I’ll deal with you later. For now, you’ve made me late to a very important meeting.”

“Well, I can give you my information, but it won’t do you any good with no one to report it to.”

Chuck lit a cigarette and with it between his teeth growled, “oh yeah… how’s that?”

John spun around in a circle. “There’s nobody here. As far as I’m concerned, there may never be anyone here again. For the longest time I never got the chance to go outside and see what had become of the world. And now that I’m here I can confirm that we’re alone.” 

Chuck blew out a puff of smoke. When the haze cleared, he couldn’t help but notice that John had a point. Indeed, the streets were clear of cars and the sidewalks of people. Every shop was empty, every food stand abandoned, and, to Chuck’s great delight, every one of the dozen or so people usually waiting in line for their coffee outside of the Food-N-Fuel absent. (Chuck would need a replacement for his first cup of coffee, which had poured out onto the road and was melting the sleet.) But then it occured to Chuck that there might not be anyone there to serve him coffee in the first place, which made him scowl again--though perhaps less genuinely this time. Chuck reproachfully asked, “well, where is everyone then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I scared them all away.”

The right corner of Chuck’s mouth tilted upwards slightly. He wondered how far they could have possibly run off to, and if perhaps he would be skipping work that day. Chuck went to ask as much, but was yanked backwards into an alleyway before he could open his mouth. John held a finger to his lips and hissed, “shhhh.”

Chuck wranged out of John’s grip and threw him a rude gesture before looking skyward towards the source of John’s fear: a helicopter. It buzzed overhead. From the helicopter came the muffled sounds of megaphone instructions. As usual, they were incomprehensible. Chuck wondered why they even bothered with announcements of the like. Even though he was sure John was just as clueless as he was, he snapped, “well, what are they saying?”

“How should I know? I’m not even sure why they’re here. This whole empty world thing is new to me too.”

Chuck wasn’t sure what to say to that except, “the world isn’t empty if there’s someone up there.” 

John shrugged. “Maybe it’s a robot.”

Apparently, even robots couldn’t deliver effective helicopter announcements. Chuck smiled at the thought. That was the funniest idea he’d ever had. And as if it wasn’t impressive enough that Chuck had managed to have a humorous thought, Chuck also had an intelligent thought right after: how could his coffee be warm enough to melt the snow if supposedly enough time had passed for the world to empty itself of people? Slowly, Chuck’s eyes shifted to John’s. After about two and a half minutes, Chuck was able to fully process the situation and its severity. He stood up and backed away timidly. John tilted his head in confusion. “What’s wrong, friend?”

  “Nothing. But, when you said you scared everyone away, what did you mean by that?”

John grinned broadly. “Well, people didn’t like me so much that they locked me up in a hospital. But I like me so I left.”

Chuck ran. A spilled cup of coffee, a battered suit, and a late arrival to work no longer seemed important. 

John sprang from the ground and tackled Chuck in an instant. Chuck flailed on the ground, merely a worm under a giant’s thumb. John pulled out a gleaming kitchen knife, stabbed Chuck three times, then got up and walked away. Chuck's mind whirled like a slot machine as his life flashed before his eyes. He saw himself biking as a boy on a day bright and blue, slamming his room as a teen to listen to heavy metal, getting a job as a taxi driver so he could put new combinations of curse words to practice, and finally going to college to get a business degree. Other than that, he hadn’t done anything of real significance, so it didn’t take his mind long to return to the present. But Chuck had already used up his two maximum daily brain exercises for the humorous and intelligent thoughts, so his mind was left empty as John’s eyes. Up in the sky, the helicopter drifted near. And with his mind completely empty, the voice on the megaphone was easy to understand: “There has been a breach at the Davy Jones Psychiatric Hospital. Two maximum security patients have escaped. Details regarding their appearances will be released soon. Seek shelter. If any strangers approach you, report the incident to your local police station immediately.” 

Chuck was on his last breath when he halted and sat up. He was a brainwashed corporate drone, after all, and he had just been given an instruction to report any sightings. He ripped his tie from his neck and jammed it against his stab wound as he stumbled off the road. He paused at the sidewalk, torn between the Food-N-Fuel and the police station. He grinned guiltily and strode towards the former, as it was not Chuck’s regrets or dreams that kept him alive, but rather the most fundamental processes of his brain, such as “drink coffee” and “follow orders”. Since drink coffee always seemed to come first in life, maybe it should when he was on the brink of death, too. It was only the sight of John inside the Food-N-Fuel, rummaging through the cash register, that motivated Chuck to go into the police station instead. A cop lay shivering under his desk. Chuck knelt down and said, “I’d like to report an escapee.”

The cop shook his head and wrapped his arms around himself.

Chuck sighed. It looked like this was going to take a while. “My name’s Chuck, and the man--” Chuck thought for a minute. “The man or the robot in the helicopter told me to report to you if I saw someone like John.”

The cop shook his head again. 

“Look,” Chuck said patiently, running a hand through his hair. “John is raiding your coffee shop, and I think you and I both deserve a cup of joe after everything we’ve been through. Unfortunately, only you are in a position to make sure we both get one.  So could you please do your job so I can get the energy I need to do mine?”

Chuck was rather proud of his closing sentence, but the cop didn’t seem to care. Finally, the cop shakily mumbled, “are you crazy?”    

It was then that it occured to Chuck that there had been a second escapee patient, and it also occurred to him that the second escapee patient might be him. The truth came rushing back, and the memories that had popped up before he thought he was going to die suddenly felt more complete. Now he could even see the events of the last hour, including stealing a suit much like he wore before he was thrown in the ward and losing his memory after getting hit by a car. As the cop pulled out a gun to shoot Chuck in the head, Chuck thought to himself, everything makes sense. That was the first and last time Chuck had three notable thoughts in a day.