Rebels (John Bates)
Page 9
The man continues. “Your therapy will continue and your progress is expected to increase, but let me make it clear you are not here by happenstance. You are a specialized group that will help the State and its vision in the near future! That will be all! Go get some rest; you have a lot more to do!” After this speech, he turns around, dons his green Army hat, and exits through a door.
Days pass and I can do more. One day I’m doing the exercises alone with only Dr. Pruitt. I have to pull on some weights, but again they are hidden behind a curtain. I still have no idea how much I am actually pulling. Today the weights seem to be more than normal, and I actually start to break a sweat. But I am still able perform my normal reps. When I am done, I let go earlier than I normally do. The weights slam into the ground behind the curtain and literally shake the floor.
Chapter 18
Dr. Pruitt stops me. “Good, good,” he says, jotting something down on his clipboard with a smile. “Now let’s see how many push-ups you can do.” I begin the normal routine and before I realize it, I am at two hundred before I am even halfway tired.
“That’s enough, John, more than enough.” I jump up ready to do something else, but suddenly Nurse Garrison appears in the doorway and the smile on the doctor’s face drops.
“Well, I think you’ve done quite enough today. Nurse Garrison will see you to your room.” It is apparent at this point that Dr. Pruitt may be here to oversee this project, but he is not too friendly with the rest of those he works with. Nurse Garrison is always lurking and watching beyond what I have ever seen the other nurses do. It is apparent she is an extra pair of eyes and ears for the State.
“I can do more,” I say, not ready to go back to my room with nothing more than a television set.
“I think you’ve done enough, John, it’s time to go.” I follow the Amazonian form of Nurse Garrison down the hall and back into my room.
“You will wait here,” she orders. A few moments later, I hear voices outside my room.
“He’s ready now,” Nurse Garrison says in her calm, monotone voice.
“No, he needs more time!” The other voice belongs to Dr. Pruitt.
“There is no more time; they are coming today.”
“That’s fine, he can join them tomorrow.”
“They won’t like that.”
“I don’t care what they like.”
“Fine, but you have to tell them why he’s not ready.”
Minutes later, Dr. Pruitt bursts into my room carrying a white laundry sack. Thrusting it into my arms he says, “I won’t let them take you.”
I do not know who he is referring to, but I am not the son of the man who distrusts the State for nothing.
“You are brave and strong and honest; this is why I gave you the best heart. This is also the reason they must never get you. Go! Go now!” Inside the white bag are my red backpack and some new street clothes with the tags still on. Even for Dr. Pruitt these are expensive. The shirt is green and the pants are khaki. They look too big for me. Before I can question him, Dr. Pruitt departs the room, looking both ways as he does. I remove the hospital jumpsuit, ball it up, and place it inside a cupboard against the wall. There is little to nothing inside, so I don’t think anyone will find it any time soon. The clothes are a little baggy but no big deal; they are the kind that dries quickly and repels moisture. Last I rip off the paper hospital tag.
I grab a Kleenex off the counter, wrap the tag in it, and place it inside the trash can. My father always makes sure I know my surroundings. You never know what might happen. So now I know the way out of this hospital like I know the way to school or church. The map has helped but while I was here, I have purposely memorized the hospital floor.
I take the stairwell to avoid any direct contact with staff members and any other patients. As I find my way to the main floor, I look around to ensure that I am not attracting any unwanted attention. I hear the security guard at the front desk talk to someone on a radio. He says, “No, sir, there has been no unusual activity. Everything has been quiet.”
I don’t want to draw attention to myself, so I know the best thing to do is to walk calmly out the front door. Just as I am approaching the desk, the security guard receives a call. He gets up from his desk and walks over to the elevator. As he gets up from the desk, I hide behind one of the massive pillars. Once he is gone around the corner toward the elevators, I proceed to the front lobby doors where I see a platoon of soldiers congregating outside the glass hospital doors. I start to sweat as I pull the green cap down over my eyes, but I walk purposely through the front lobby just as many men in military uniforms are filling the foyer. As the door closes behind me, I hear the sergeant yell to his platoon, “Lock this place down. No one in or out from this moment on!”
About the Authors:
Scott Powell was born in Burlington, Vermont, to a father who was a police officer and a mother who emigrated from South Korea. He received a degree in marketing from the University of Las Vegas, Nevada, and a master’s degree from the University of Alabama at Birmingham. Scott served a two-year Spanish-speaking mission for his church. He is a mixed martial artist who continues to train with his father, a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a kickboxer.
Besides being married to Scott for over seventeen years, Judith Powell is a stay-at-home mom whose whole life has been full of stories. Being raised by an Irish storytelling father and a Native American mother, stories have filled her life and her head until they finally had no choice but to flow out through her fingertips.
You can find Scott and Judith on Facebook, their blog at scottandjudithpowell.wordpress.com
twitter (@scottandjudith) and on Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/scottandjudith/
Table of Contents
Dedication:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About The Authors: