Oscar (4 page)

#

Janna woke up with a start and sat bolt upright after being jostled about.

‘What the hell–―’ she started.

‘You need to get up.’ the top dog barked, glancing at the number embossed on the top left of Janna’s overalls. ‘Move, prisoner 15712.’

She swung herself round and stood up uneasily, rubbing her sore, tender neck.

‘You survived this game,’ said the top dog, ‘but rest assured, the games will get worse’

Janna wasn’t sure how to respond to the top dog. She wasn’t even sure if she was allowed to speak to her! But the experiences of the last few days had left her with a thick skin, and she threw caution to the wind.

‘Worse? What do you mean, worse?’ she asked. ‘It can’t get any worse than hanging, can it?’

‘Oh, my dear. Don’t be so naïve.’ the top dog scolded. ‘He will think of something a lot worse than hanging next time. He won’t stop until you are dead, or close to it. You are now his new conquest.’

Janna’s face dropped, and her defiant streak suddenly turned to a feeling of dread.

‘Were any of you put through the first stage of the game?’ she enquired.

‘No, my dear, the sadistic wanker only targets the pretty ones.’ the top dog replied. ‘How many times did you lose balance and fall?’

‘Only once—then the guards made sure I didn’t fall again.’ she answered abruptly.

‘Once?’ the top dog blurted ‘What do you mean, they made sure you didn’t fall again?’

‘I tried to kill myself, so they made it so I couldn’t jump again.’ She snapped.

The top dog grabbed her by the throat and pushed her against the wall.

‘Don’t ever speak to me like that again.’ she spat as she choked her.

The top dog released Janna, and pulled her away from the wall before walking away.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’ she shouted hoarsely after her. But there was no response. She hadn’t expected one, anyway.

Another inmate approached her, introducing herself only as mouse.

‘Don’t talk, just listen.’ mouse said in a seemingly menacing tone. ‘I can tell you why top dog knows so much – oh, and by the way, her real name is Sandra Jones. Used to be a big deal on the outside before the witch hunts singled her out for being of non-pure blood.’

She waited for mouse’s explanation, which seemed to disappear into the abyss.

‘Go on, you were saying?’ Janna snapped.

‘Of course, where was I? Oh, yes – why do you think Sandra is top dog, and not dead, like the rest of the non-pure bloods? She shags around. Sleeping with the guards to curry favour. She’s a bit of a snitch as well, so be careful what you say to her in future.’ mouse replied. ‘One of the guards told her of one of the doctor’s conquests, and what happened to her after the hanging game. I can’t remember all the details, but I know it involved being outdoors, and that is it. And that she didn’t survive.’

‘Ok.’ was the only response for what mouse had told her. She didn’t know how to react; her reference to the outdoors could mean anything.

‘S
o, Miriam, why are you here?’ Sam couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. ‘What are you running from? I answered your question, now it’s your turn.’

Miriam took hold of his hand and gazed into his deep brown eyes.

‘We are all of non-pure blood: mostly Scottish mix, with the odd Welshman thrown in for good measure. I was a minister within the Parliament for many years before the witch hunts changed everything. All of us were, in some way, tied into the governmental machine.’ she replied. ‘If we were caught, things would’ve been dire for us—we know far too much to be kept alive.’

‘The boy’s parents were arrested for being political activists. I can’t imagine that they’ll last long in the camps.’ Sam said. ‘Neither of them is strong enough to survive.’

‘I’ve heard what goes on in the camps.’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want to be put in that position—none of us do. And that is how I want it kept.’

No more was said on the matter, and Sam stopped talking as well. He felt no need to outstay his welcome by agitating his hosts.

‘Let’s finish eating – time is getting on.’ Miriam shouted over the din. ‘We need to rest at some point.’

Sam, exhausted, couldn’t have agreed with her more. Oscar was already asleep, hardly nibbling on the food in front of him before dozing off. One and a half days of constant travelling had seen to that. Sam gathered himself up and picked Oscar up, carrying him over to a spare mattress that lay in the corner of what used to be the dining room. He put him down gently before taking his jacket and shoes off. Miriam walked towards them clutching a blanket.

‘Here, cover the boy with this.’ She handed him the blanket. ‘It can get very chilly in the evening.’

He took the blanket and gently placed it on top of Oscar.

Miriam placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘There are more blankets on the landing when you’re ready to bed down.’ Sam smiled at her as she walked away.

#

Miriam watched as Oscar tossed and turned in his fitful unrest. She sat and wondered how someone so young had endured so much over his short life. She felt the urge to nurture him and keep him safe from harm.

‘You should stay here, with us.’ she blurted.

Sam just smiled in response, although it made perfect sense when he thought about it.

‘We will take you up on your offer, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to inform my sister of the situation.’

He pulled his mobile phone from his breast pocket. Miriam quickly relieved him of it.

‘No, I can’t allow you to use this.’ she snapped, pulling it apart in front of his eyes.

A look of disbelief spread across his face. ‘What the hell, Miriam – why did you do that?’

‘Do you know how many people have been caught as a result of GPS signals from phones?’ she said angrily. ‘Well, do you?’

He shook his head sheepishly then replied in an awkward manner. ‘I can’t say that I do, no.’

‘Too bloody many, young man.’ she scolded. ‘You need to start thinking like a fugitive now. Things like phones are no longer of use to you if you want to survive.’

An awful thought began to linger in the back of her mind.
Did he turn the GPS off after he’d finished with it? Did he remember to turn his phone off after speaking to his sister?
He had used the GPS for directions a few days before Oscar and he began their journey. If he had left it on and forgotten to switch his phone off too, then he had placed everybody around him in danger.

#

Oscar began to stir in the midst of a nightmare, tossing and turning frantically, and finally waking himself up with his own screams. He sat up in bed, disoriented.

‘Sam, Sam! Where are you?’ he screamed.

Sam came running as fast as he could and sat down next to him, taking him in his arms and cradling him.

‘Shush now, little man, nothing can hurt you here.’ he said in a calming manner. ‘Try and go back to sleep.’ He continued to rock Oscar, and slowly he began to fall back to sleep. But it was not altogether peaceful, as the same harrowing dream would come to him again and again throughout the night. Sam was forced to wake him up repeatedly, dragging him out of the nightmare he was trapped in.

‘Maybe it’s best if you stay awake, little man.’ he whispered softly in Oscar’s ear.

The boy nodded as he wiped away a single tear and sniffed.

#

‘Miriam, I think we might have a problem.’ Robert, her cohort, reported. ‘Sam may be hiding something.’

He showed her Sam’s broken-up phone, and pointed to a specific area.

‘See that?’ he pointed at the back of the casing. ‘G.P, do you know what that stands for?’

Her face dropped and she stared at the back of the phone in disbelief. ‘Government Property? No, he can’t be one of them; he’s far too well mannered and gentle to be a patrolman.’

‘Get him away from the boy, Rob.’ she said, almost panicking. ‘Bring him to me. I want to hear what he has to say for himself, before we take any action against him.’

Robert left her side and beckoned over another comrade as backup. If Sam was in fact a patrolman, he would need the extra manpower; the man would not hesitate to kill anyone who posed a threat.

Miriam tapped the phone casing against her palm, and gazed briefly at the incriminating markings one more time. Her thought process was abruptly broken by the sound of scuffling coming from the next room. Sam was not coming as quietly as hoped, giving her the impression that he was a patrolman after all, if only a fledgling.

‘Get off of me, you bastards.’ Sam bellowed angrily as he was dragged towards her. Despite the grip of the two men hauling him, he was fighting with all his might to escape their grasp.

‘What’s going on, Sam? If your name is indeed Sam.’ Miriam scrutinised him as he was brought forward. ‘I think we might need to use extreme measures, boys. Sit the little shit down, and tie him up.’

Robert went in search of a chair while Max, the stronger of the two, held Sam firmly in a vice grip. There was nothing that he could do about it.

‘I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I can promise you, I haven’t done anything wrong.’ he said in a panicked manner. ‘Please, let me go!’

‘Save it, Sam.’ Miriam wasn’t buying into his ‘Mr Innocent’ act.

Robert entered the room again with a chair and some rope. He slammed the seat of the chair into the backs of Sam’s knees, forcing him to sit. He handed Max the rope, which was used to tie his hands behind the chair’s back rest. He winced, feeling the rough twine as it cut into his wrists. Max knelt on the floor behind the chair and pulled Sam’s feet towards the back, where the rest of the rope was wound. There was no chance of escape; he was as helpless as a new-born baby.

Miriam strode towards the chair and knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on his trembling knees.

‘Why are you trembling? I thought you patrolmen were supposed to be hard as nails?’ she sneered. ‘Now, don’t insult my intelligence by denying that you are a patrolman, because the back of your phone suggests otherwise. What has the government tasked you with?’ she asked in a calmer manner.

He bowed his head, knowing that no matter what came out of his mouth he would be accused of lying. He thought it best to remain silent until the threat of violence came into the equation.

#

Miriam tried to get Sam to open up to her for hours, but nothing came of it. Her patience was wearing thin. Anger began to replace rationality, as he became more unresponsive and the need for violence became apparent. Max was the camp’s resident torturer: his favourite implements were bamboo splinters, which he would pierce between his victim’s fingernails.

He had been filing the tips of his bamboo splinters into sharp points, to inflict as much pain and discomfort as he could to the person at the other end of the aggression. Sam remained oblivious to what was going on behind him.

‘One more time, Sam.’ Miriam whispered in his ear. ‘What is your purpose?’

He remained defiant, refusing to answer her question. She gave a singular nod in Max’s direction, prompting him to begin the torture. He grabbed hold of Sam’s fingers and placed one of the pointed bamboo splinters under a nail. He pushed on it slightly, just enough to make him wince again.

‘Max, do what you do best.’ she ordered. ‘Some much-needed brutality to get this arsehole’s tongue wagging.’

With one swift bash on the end of the splinter, the point travelled down his nail, and with it followed a gut-wrenching screech.

The scream was heard by a clueless Oscar, who appeared to investigate. He looked at Sam in his pain-racked, helpless state and said nothing, just stared blankly at him. The man turned his head to look at him, tears rolling down his face.

‘Why are you crying, Sammy?’ Oscar said falteringly, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

‘Oscar, go!’ he shouted. ‘I don’t want you seeing this.’

He furrowed his brow and stormed off in the direction from where he’d come, never looking back. Looking at Sam’s face, Miriam suddenly understood.

‘Oh, I see, you were tasked to string the boy along, make him feel safe before taking him back to London.’ she had twigged what his motives were, just by looking at the forlorn expression on his face as he stared at Oscar. ‘You had no intention of saving him from the patrolmen, did you?’

He bowed his head in shame and began to break down.

‘It’s true! That was my intention.’ he cried. ‘Please don’t hurt me anymore.’

For a fledgling patrolman, he was a bit of a big girl’s blouse. It only took one bamboo splinter and the presence of the boy to break him completely. Seeing him in this vulnerable state did not detract from what needed to be done. She had only one choice to make:
was he to be hung or shot?
There was no other way to secure the group’s safety, including Oscar. In the end, the decision was up to him.

‘How would you choose to die?’ She posed the question to Sam, who hoped that the question itself was hypothetical. ‘If you had the choice of being shot or hung, what would it be?’

He stared up at her with a look of puzzlement on his face, but answered the question nevertheless. ‘What a strange thing to ask.’ he started, his voice trembling, ‘maybe a bullet to the back of the head, or something like that?’

She smiled and took his head in her hands. ‘Your wish is my command, my boy.’ she turned to Max and Robert, who had stood in the corner during the interrogation process, and ordered them to drag Sam outside, still tied to the chair.

‘Put the chair in the middle of the street, I’ll be out shortly.’

A look of terror was writ firmly across his face, as the two men began to drag him to his impending death.

Miriam went in search of Oscar so she could tuck him out of the way. She found him huddled up in a corner, sobbing.

‘Come with me, Oscar.’ she said calmly. ‘We need to go upstairs.’

She took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet. She led him up the stairs to the only room that would lock from the outside.

She gave him a gentle shove into the vacant bedroom and locked the door behind him. ‘I’ll be back for you shortly, don’t worry.’