ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

 ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

 I opened my eyes, it was still dark. I checked my watch. I lay in bed for a few minutes more. Not because I was reluctant to get up before the birds had even begun their morning songs, but because I wanted to plan my route one more time. To see the route in my head, to plan my timing, my pacing. To get my strategies fixed solidly in my head. To calculate the risks, the dangers, the obstacles;  to map out Plan A and Plan B and just because that was the kind of person I was, Plan C as well. I was a cautious person by nature, but the nature of my hobbies and interests mandated that I look at every eventuality, every possible outcome, every contingency, every likelihood of unforeseen events.  

I checked my watch.

 Once I had my plan firmly fixed in my mind I sprang out of bed and quickly went into the washroom to perform my morning ablutions. Showering for exactly five and a half minutes. Five minutes was not long enough to kill any bacteria that might have settled on me during the night and six minutes would have potentially dried out my skin and caused inflammation or created itchy dry skin or eczema.  After five and a half minutes my shower alarm went off and I turned the alarm off on my watch and got out of the shower. I returned to my bedroom and dressed in my gear. Black track pants and a shirt that fit like a glove, and a black hoodie with multiple pockets. I had packed each pocket carefully the night before and memorized the placement of each object in them. I reached for my socks and running shoes and tied my shoes carefully, ensuring I double-knotted them. Falling down was not an option. Failing was not an option.

I checked my watch.

Getting everything right was key.

I quickly made my bed, adhering to the hospital corner protocol that regimented my life. I carefully folded my night clothes and tucked them neatly under my pillow, then fluffed the pillow again making sure the corners were square with the bed.

I checked my watch.

I rummaged around the kitchen, restless to accomplish my goal for the day. Realizing my need for calmness, I  closed my eyes and took several calming breaths. I focused sharply on the tasks to come, knowing that my well-laid plan was flawless. Self-confidence surged through my being, quickly followed by power and peace.

I was fearless. I was bold. I was brave. I was dauntless. I was intrepid. I was omnipotent. 

I repeated this statement two more times. This was my mantra. I often repeated it throughout the day as if it were a sacred text, my shibboleth. 

As a very young child, before my diagnosis, I was very impressed by the childhood story of The Little Engine That Could. I read this book three times every night. When faced with difficulties, the little engine uttered the words, ‘I think I can, I think I can.’  and was therefore able to accomplish the goals set. Now that I was grown, I had created my own mantra that I uttered to encourage and believe in myself. I repeated my mantra three times every night before I went to bed and three times every morning before breakfast. The mantra was also helpful during the day when things would go awry.

I turned to the cupboard and prepared myself a light breakfast. One to give me energy and stamina for the day but not to weigh me down. After my breakfast, I washed and dried the dishes and put them precisely back in the cupboard in their appointed places.

I checked my watch…again.

I heard the song of the first bird of the morning and checked my watch, the bird was right on cue. I liked this bird, it lived on a branch of a tree just outside my window and every day it started its song at exactly the same time. I nicknamed the bird Timex. And its mate Rolex.  The previous birds that lived in that nest were not at all cognizant of the importance of the ritual of their morning songs, and therefore they were quickly eliminated. A little arsenic in the bird feeder did wonders to relieve me of their lack of attention to detail and their appalling lack of routine.

I checked my watch one more time and saw that the clock had struck the hour … figuratively speaking. The double zeros at the end made it an auspicious time to leave the house. I quickly stepped out and locked the door, turning the handle and checking it five times before I was sure it was properly closed. It had been a windy night and I adjusted the welcome mat outside the door to make sure it was flat and square with the house, and properly centered with the middle of the door. That accomplished, I approached my car and after doing my circle check five times to make sure that all the tires were properly filled with air, and there were no scratches from the tree branches that had blown down during the night, I set off.

The distance to my rendezvous was not far, and I was very familiar with the route, having traveled it every morning for the past several weeks.

My destination was a track,  it was generally used as a sulky track by the local fairgrounds during either the Fall Fair, Spring Fling, or tractor pulls and demolition derbies in the summer. It was generally abandoned at this time of day except for a few runners who diligently used it rather than running on sidewalks or roads where the chance of being hit by a car in the predawn light was always a distinct possibility.

I pulled my van right up beside the track, opened my doors and left the lights on. The morning sun was just starting to cast a glow on the horizon, but it was still too dark to see much of anything. The lights from the van would offer a little light to serve my purposes.

 I checked my watch. It appeared that I was the first to arrive, but that too had been planned. I  knew she would arrive any second; that was one of the things that had drawn her to me, her punctuality. She checked her watch precisely the second she started her warm-up laps and the precise second she started her run. She frequently checked throughout her run and adjusted her speed accordingly.

 I took a slow lap around the track while I waited. The track was lit by the headlights of my van. I knew her routine because I had studied it for the past month. She was always one of the first to hit the track. The other dedicated runner had taken a tumble a few days before and I had not seen him for the past few days. I was counting on this.

The headlights of a car pulled into the driveway as I made to start my second lap. It was her. She parked close to the track, quickly exited the car, and without any preamble, crossed to the track and started off at a slow pace to warm her muscles up. I knew she would do two complete laps at this pace before she would make her move. Once she was warmed up her laps were at the speed of a gazelle so I had to get my timing right.

I slowed my pace when we were both in the long stretch and bent down as if to tie my shoe and let her pass me. I raised my head confidently and we nodded to each other as she passed me. I quickly rose and followed her knowing she could hear the pounding of my feet. We had run like this for several days now, so I was a known identity. A fellow runner, someone she was somewhat familiar with. As we came up on the straightaway where the cars were parked I snuck my hand into my pockets and pulled out a cloth and a small canister. Speeding up to right behind her I grabbed her and pinned her against my chest with one arm and with the other arm I snaked it up and planted the cloth over her mouth. She fought like a tiger until the chloroform started to take effect.

 I actually used a variant as chloroform usually takes about five minutes to become completely effective and render one’s victim unconscious. Bz 2 on the other hand was a more effective incapacitating agent, being more potent and more effective even than ketamine, which is odorless and tasteless, not that that was a factor in a snatch-and-run situation.

 Despite her top physical condition, she was on the petite side and after she collapsed in my arms, I carried her easily to my van. I had left the sliding door open to facilitate the transfer. It had of course bothered me to no end to leave the door open but sometimes the end must justify the means. The overall goal or result had to outweigh an unclosed door. I had wrestled with this part of the plan for several days but felt that my Hero, Niccolo Machiavelli would approve this decision. I was therefore willing to bend my rules for the greater cause.

I lay her down on the single mattress that I had put in the van expressly for this purpose. She was worthy of this comfort and I considered her my priceless treasure.  I glanced around the area and found that the track remained empty just as I had surmised.  I  pulled a roll of duct tape from my pocket and bound her hands and feet. Lastly, I tore off a smaller piece of tape and covered her mouth, making sure that she could breathe through her nose.  As soon as this was accomplished I did not linger but headed out of the area at a reasonable pace, it was always best not to draw attention to oneself by unnecessary speed. As I pulled onto the County Road, I noticed that the dawn had finally broken.

 The return journey to my home took little time. Living on a twenty-acre rural property with numerous outbuildings offered a plethora of choices for her accommodations but I preferred to keep her close to me so I had renovated and fortified my basement. The windows were barred and boarded up from the outside, with numerous screws. A bathroom and shower had been added to the basement and I had purchased thick fluffy towels and an array of cosmetics and hair accessories. No expense had been spared to make her comfortable. I had even purchased a treadmill and a recumbent bike which were at the far side of the room. Her bed was a beautiful cream colour with a matching dresser and night table. The duvet was a pale lilac colour and I had taken great care to find several accent pillows in coordinating colours. I had purchased many outfits for her and these filled the drawers.  She would learn to love her new home. 

I carried her into the basement and lowered her carefully onto the king-size bed, removing the duct tape.  I gently smoothed her long hair off her face and covered her with a light blanket from the end of the bed. I sat in the comfy chair in the corner and waited patiently for her eyes to open.  I checked my watch, but I had all the time in the world.  We had all the time in the world.