I could go to the police. I’d have surely find myself arrested and back at the facility, being questioned by Ward again. But at least my arrest would be official and I’d have rights. Why didn’t Ward want the police called?
I feared he’d try and catch me again and take me away. But for what? He mentioned tests. Did he want to experiment on me?
I knew that, if he ever did catch me, I would have wished I’d gone to the police.
I walked, now out of breath, down alleys and passageways until I felt nobody could find me.
I’d been in the process of packing my stuff from my old flat, but I could arrange for it to be delivered to London. I might not have been safe to go back there.
I decided that it would be best for me to go straight to the train station and head to London.
It was on the train that I fell asleep and dreamt. Most dreams are obscure, half forgotten, memories. Fragmented symbols and hidden messages you’d struggle to associate with real life. This dream was different. It was specific and clear.
I dreamt that two shadowy figures wheeled me into a surgery. Unbuttoning my shirt and exposing my abdomen, they started to cut me open. I was unable to move, but it didn't hurt.
They pulled out a blackened and rotten mass of intestines from inside me, leaving a gaping hole, then they both gently carried a fresh new intestine over and sat it in the hole. Quite naturally, it sat up, on my belly, and started to talk. It was Bruce.
“Hello, Ernum. I'm here to protect you. I’m afraid your intestines have been lying to you. They told you I'm crazy, when I'm the only person who's been talking any sense. They told you that you'd die if you remove your intestine, that it would hurt. It was all lies, Ernum.”
I awoke, still on the train. A sense of relief ran through me. Rummaging under my shirt I felt my stomach. All intact, just my old faded appendix scar. The slight dent felt against my fingers.
My phone rang. It was the distorted voice.
“Ernum, it’s me again - Bruce.”
“Whose body did they put you in, Bruce?”
“I think I worked out who murdered my wife, Ernum.”
“Where are you now?”
“I murdered my wife, Ernum. I telepathically infected her with bad ideas. Ideas that weren’t meant for her.”
“Are you in me, now? Did Dr Thorn stick you inside me?” I glanced around at the other passengers wondering what they’d make of my conversation. Some were looking at me.
“I was trying to figure out who I was - what I was.”
“Bruce!”
The phone went dead. But my phone was still at my flat. It wasn’t allowed it in the facility, so I left it behind. I looked at the empty hand I’d been talking into. My thumb and little finger were extended.
A slight pain struck my belly, causing me to curl over. Nothing major, just a little message - something to help me wake up. I felt my belly again. This time I found more than an appendix scar.