The Aurora Conspiracies- Volume One

by Sam Nash

  There was no possibility of sleep. There was far too much at stake. Perhaps there was more chance of freedom from Alexi’s lab. She munched on another apple while she pondered upon how to get Alexi on her side. Perhaps she could flirt with him. Seduce him into letting her go. He was only small. Mary felt sure that he could be no physical threat to her. Not like Visser and the guards. They were seriously imposing figures. If she could get him into that courtyard, away from everyone else, out in the fresh air, there might be a way out. Finishing the apple, she balanced the core on the table next to the TV. She pressed the power switch on the television and checked the time – 4.35pm.

  “I’m feeling ok now, Alexi.” She said to the camera. Within a couple of minutes, he appeared through the door.

  “Good, good. Ready for work?” He was wearing his white lab coat over green scrubs. A pair of black rim spectacles poked out of the top pocket. Mary analysed his face. He had fine features, delicate and well groomed. Big blue eyes and soft mousey hair that was once referred to as fly-away, before the big commercial ad campaigns for shampoo rebranded it, lifeless.

  Alexi was neither attractive nor unattractive. He was simply not the kind of man that she had ever desired. Mary wasn’t sure that she had ever managed to pin point a type, but she knew the moment she met Parth, on that undergraduate field trip to South Shields, that he was someone she found highly desirous. The falling hopelessly in love part was gradual, spanning more than a year.

  Occasionally, she wondered how her life would have turned out if Parth had not assisted her biology lecturer on that trip. They might never have met, had it not been for a minor bout of food poisoning that the department’s research fellow had suffered the night before they were due to leave. Thirty undergraduate students in two minibuses travelling north, with only one qualified lecturer between them. Parth had just completed his doctorate thesis in Neurology and was contemplating moving back to India when his supervisor begged him to rescue the trip. Parth and Mary’s relationship bloomed over the identification of marine wildlife.

  Mary followed Alexi back down the corridor to the laboratory. A tea tray was waiting for her, pre-empting her request. Guards stood motionless either side of the exit and another inside the room itself. Alexi began attaching sticky pads to her forehead, connecting the wires to the metal contact points and checking the calibration on the computer. As he leaned in she whispered to him.

  “I need to talk to you… alone.” Mary flicked her head towards the guards, raising her eyebrows to stress the importance of confidentiality for their discussion.

  “We are alone, Mary.” Alexi continued his task, repositioning errant electrodes.

  “Let’s go outside for a breath of air. How do we get into that little quad over there?” She pointed through the window to the courtyard of abandoned flower beds.

  “Work now. Outside later.”

  “Do you promise? If I do whatever it is you want of me now, you will come with me to the garden?”

  “Yes, garden is reward.” He sat on a high lab stool and poured her tea. From his pocket, he withdrew the same compass as before. Mary tried to hide her surprise. She was sure that he would be giving her a task with more challenge after witnessing the drama with Visser just a few hours ago. He placed the compass down in front of her. “Move needle with no touch.”

  Mary raised her hand next to the compass. Alexi grabbed her wrist and moved it behind her back.

  “No! Hands away. Like this…” He put both his arms behind his back. She copied him, then concentrated on the red tip of the needle. As she imagined the metal shard facing the opposite direction, it started to move. Slowly at first, and then with a swing, it obeyed her command. Pleased with herself, she hopped down from her stool.

  “Can we go to the garden now?”

  “Work not done. We have only just started.” His manner had altered from the morning. It could be her imagination, but Alexi seemed gruffer and stricter than before. He moved his computer mouse about the screen, clicking icons, saving files and then opening a video link. The screen showed a grey gravelled surface with another compass, glinting in the sunlight. “This on roof, here.” Alexi pointed up, his eyes mirroring his finger. “You make it move.”

  She frowned. What was the purpose of all this? She needed to speed up the challenges, to get him alone to beg him to release her. Okay. I can do this. Think of repelling that needle at my command. I can do this. Mary focused. She imagined herself up on the roof, channelling her electromagnetic touch to the compass. The screen on the computer showed the needle vibrating, then it wobbled till finally it lurched in a full one hundred and eighty degree turn.

  “Is that it for today? Can we go now?” She was impatient to investigate the garden quad.

  “No. More to do.”

  “What is all this for? You cannot possibly have abducted me to move a few compasses?” She slumped on her stool, exasperated.

  “You learn to combine your gifts. Use all at once. You very powerful.” Alexi did not take his eyes from the screen. She laid her hand on his arm, trying to catch his attention. He looked down at her hand.

  “Alexi, look at me.”

  He kept his gaze low. “Why won’t you look at me?”

  “You very powerful.”

  “You think I would hurt your eyes if I look into them? I’m not going to hurt you, Alexi. We can be friends. Let’s go for a walk in the garden together.”

  “We have much work to do. We go later.”

  “No! We go now!” Mary’s temper flashed. She banged her fist on the bench in front of him, sending a surge of power along the cables of the computer and blowing out the electronics. The screen went dead. The guard by the door fell to one knee, aiming his rifle directly at her. He paused, waiting for the command to fire. Alexi waved him to stand down.

  “You were going to let him kill me?” Mary was shaken. She had convinced herself that she was more valuable to them alive than dead, allowing her a small degree of leverage. Fear took hold. Her motor neurons fired randomly, sending her core muscles into an uncontrollable tremor. Timid once more, she leaned her elbows on the table.

  “Not kill. Gun has tranquilizer darts. Guards orders are to sedate you and restrain you on bed.” Alexi pressed the power button several times on the computer base unit. It emitted no signs on life. “Come. We get fresh air.”

  The guard followed them through a preparatory room, down three concrete steps and through a fire door. Mary took that as a good sign. A fire door would never direct staff fleeing from a blaze into a dead end. There had to be a route to freedom somewhere beyond the garden quad. Alexi led the way towards a wooden bench situated beneath a silver birch tree. The slight breeze tickled the downy hairs on her arms. The dappled shade warmed her face. If she closed her eyes, she could almost be back at the duck pond in the park - almost.

  The man with the gun, clicked his radio and muttered something Russian, before standing at the fire door threshold. Mary heard a noise like clanging metal – a closing gate perhaps, then booted steps marching into view from behind a corner of a building. A second guard arrived to block any attempt at escape. So, that is my route to freedom. Just a matter of getting past armed soldiers first.

  “Alexi. You want me to cooperate, don’t you? To use my gifts to help you and Visser in some way, yes?”

  Alexi nodded.

  “Then you have to keep me safe.” She was clutching the sleeve of his lab coat. He edged away from her, pulling his arm away from her grasp.

  “You are safe. Many guards keep you safe.” He leaned away from her, pulling his white coat close around his legs, as if he could use it as a defensive shield.

  “And who will protect me from the guards? One of them has threatened to come to my room tonight and hurt me.” Her voice hushed to a rasping whisper.

  “Not possible. Visser kill them if they harm you.” He looked into her eyes, then immediately shrank back, physically turning his head away from her face.

  �
��He said he could disable the camera and overpower me.” She sat on the edge of the bench, her knees turned towards Alexi, imploring him.

  “No. None of the guards would dare. Visser find out, kill them.”

  “But Visser would not find out if the camera was not switched on. Don’t you see? You have to let me go or they will seriously harm me. Please Alexi. You know it’s the right thing to do. How could you live with yourself if they raped me and you could have prevented it?”

  Alexi shook his head unconvinced. His mobile phone rang. He listened to the person on the other end and hung up without a reply.

  “New computer. We go back to work, da?” He stood up and beckoned her to follow him, noticeably avoiding her gaze. Mary sighed, taking in a last look at her surroundings. The windows on the buildings opposite all had drawn blinds except one. A roller blind extended less than halfway allowed the breeze to enter the open window. Mary stared, trying to gauge the height of the windowsill.

  “I need to stretch my legs for a minute or two. Can I have a few minutes while you go and sort out the software on your new computer?” Mary flicked her eyelashes at him, adopting her best and most innocent expression. Alexi folded his arms, resisting her allure. “It’s not as though I can go anywhere, can I?” Mary pointed at the armed guard in the doorway.

  Alexi relented. “Five minutes. No more.”

  As soon as Alexi was out of view, she kicked her legs out, stretched and wandered around the flower beds, all the while keeping one eye on the guard. She crouched to tie and retie the laces on her old canvas shoes. They had seen better days. They still wore the mud stain from her bike ride through the puddles. Mary snapped her attention back. The guard drew a cigarette pack from his top pocket and slid one between his lips. She pretended not to notice, scuffing the rubber soles along the edges of the paving slabs near to the windows.

  Mary watched him in the reflection. He tilted his gun down, pushing it out of his way on its shoulder strap and then fumbled with a box of matches from his trouser pocket. The breeze caught the first flame. It guttered and extinguished before he could light the end of his cigarette. He stepped backwards into the stairwell of the preparatory room, to shelter himself from the airstream.

  This was her chance. Mary hopped across the flower border and trod on the concrete plinth below the open window. It was higher than she had estimated, but not enough to dissuade her attempt. Sliding her top half beneath the swinging window, she grasped the sill and readied herself to lock her elbows above the frame. Bouncing twice on tiptoe, she hoisted herself up. The metal dug into the palms of her hands and the weight of the glass swinging against her back bruised her spine, but she gritted her teeth long enough to hook her leg inside and heave the rest of her mass over the ledge. The drop on the inside was shallower, allowing her to reach down one leg at a time.

  Mary scanned the room for reorientation. Her pulse was hammering in her throat and her mouth was dry. She could hear the guard yelling in Russian and heavy boots heading in her direction. Surrounded by rows of beds, each containing an unconscious patient, she crouched low to avoid detection from the teams of men wearing scrubs, who she knew would be making their rounds.

  They were all so uniform, so still. Each patient wrapped tightly in surgical stockings and pressure bandages to prevent deep vein thrombosis. It was hard to tell them apart, or even which sex they were. Their slim gurneys equidistant and encasing the victims in familiar restraints. Chains of larvae in a bees nest. Was she supposed to become their queen?

  The guard noises were approaching, and she had no doubt that they would radio for assistance. There could be more of them waiting for her beyond this hospital ward. It was a risk she had to take. Weaving between the trolleys of comatose people, Mary dashed towards the double doors at the far side of the room and into a corridor. Her plimsolls dampened her footsteps as she hurried along, searching for an external door to freedom. She could hear someone speaking English, a voice that made her shudder. Cyril Plender was close by. She edged nearer to an open door.

  Mary peeked through the gap near the hinges. Inside the room, one patient lay attached to heart and blood pressure monitors. Cyril was barking orders at a Scrub Man. He passed Cyril a loaded syringe. Holding the plastic tube that delivered fluids via an intravenous line into the patient’s neck, Cyril opened a valve and squeezed in a chemical from the syringe. They waited, watching the monitors trace a path across the black screen. If Mary dashed past the door now, they would definitely see her. She looked behind her. The corridor was empty, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before the guards caught up.

  “So far so good…” Plender said, a smug grin plastered between his straggly goatee. The monitor’s trace lines wavered and an alarm sounded. The patient shook violently within the confines of the bindings, the seizure testing atrophied muscles to their limits. Within seconds, the trace flat lined.

  “Bollocks. I was sure they had cracked it this time.” Furious, Cyril turned and threw the syringe at the back wall. Mary crept past and broke into a jog. Despite the late afternoon sun, the corridor was dim. As she scurried past each set of double doors, she peered through the window slits at shadowy wards of insect people, cocooned in their larval stages.

  The labyrinthine network of corridors was disorientating. She made a series of left and right turns, passing empty nurse stations and several adjoining passageways. She was no longer sure that she was heading away from danger or towards it. Her sense of direction failed her and panic was creeping in.

  Footsteps and muffled voices seemed to be echoing all around her, making her head spin. Her ribs ached with lactic acid and hyperventilation, the dizzying effects neutering her judgement. Mary found herself at a four-way junction. She looked around at the faded and torn notice board posters for anything remotely familiar; something to give her a clue as to which direction she had come from, or a sign to guide her to safety.

  The choice of direction was random. Mary knew she couldn’t afford to stand still and deliberate her options. She ran down the corridor that seemed the brightest. There was a window near the terminal point, next to another set of double doors. Perhaps she could orientate herself if she could see what was outside. In an acute state of anxiety, she ran. Holding her hands up to the glass to cushion her propulsion, she ground to a halt. She checked all around the frame for a mechanism with which to open the window, but it was a fixed pane.

  Outside she could see that a left turn ahead, would take her to an ambulance bay and a set of external doors. A brief moment of elation washed through her mind, diluting the adrenalin in her veins and crystallising her thoughts. Mary bolted through the doors, letting them swing back into the metal doorstops with a loud bang. Reaching the corner, she held out her hand to the wall to aid her course correction and slammed right into the chest of a broad shouldered guard. He grabbed at her arms and held her close.

  “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” He said, licking his teeth. “You couldn’t even wait till tonight to get your hands on my body.”

  Chapter Twelve

  It had taken a great deal of pleading on Mary’s part to persuade Alexi not to return her to the bed restraints. She could tell that he was angry with her. He removed the bowl of fruit and stormed out of her cell without uttering a word. His demeanour said it all. She assumed that Visser was away from the building during her bid for freedom or the punishment would have been far more severe.

  Mary’s evening meal consisted of a lukewarm bowl of porridge, presumably to reinforce Alexi’s displeasure with her. It tasted sickly and had a weird tang to it, like they had used spoiled milk to make it and hidden the fact by adding too much sugar.

  The television informed her that it was past ten o’clock. She left it on mute and considered her options. That brute of a guard was clearly sincere in his threat to visit her room. In fact, he had announced it in front of several other guards, leading her to assume he had some authority over them. That being the case, the lower ranking soldiers w
ould take no part in preventing him from overpowering her, forcing himself upon her.

  They could switch off the camera, or worse still, be passive spectators of the crime. They had the ability to remove any recordings or disable functions as they egged him on. Might I have to endure not one rape, but multiple offences? Her thoughts rewound to the sensation of his fingers digging into her arms. The rank smell of layer upon layer of old sweat, dried and reanimated by his body heat.

  Mary trembled. Her helplessness manifesting in uncontrollable muscle twitches. She sat crossed legged on the bed, her hands cradling her head, rocking her torso backwards and forwards. Pull yourself together. There has to be a way to fight back. If you can hurt one of them, it might make the others think twice about joining in. They cannot kill me, or Visser would shoot them in the head. They can injure me. They are more than twice as strong as I am. I won’t be able to overpower them.

  I need to keep moving, don’t let that bastard get me on the bed and in those restraints, no matter how much he slaps or punches me. Just take the pain. The last cuff across my face from the guard that Visser killed, was no more painful than a bad migraine. Bear the pain and resist. But how? He could crush me. Find something sharp…

  Rushing into the bathroom, she rummaged in the toiletry bag for the aerosol can of deodorant. Holding it securely in both hands, she turned her face away and thrust it against the mirror. It sprang back, leaving a small dent in the reflective surface. What the…? A stainless steel, anti-vandalism mirror.

  Mary considered her toothbrush. She had watched all those series on TV about women in prison making shivs by grinding down the end of a snapped toothbrush on a brick wall. She analysed the brush that Alexi had provided. It was bendy at the narrowest point of the handle. No amount of manipulation would induce the plastic to snap.