Chapter 11:
The twin fences of the boundary fence were complete, the electrified fence was switched on, and B Force patrolled. Their barracks, and all the other facilities needed for their men were in a new area, surrounded by a high fence, outside the Compound, but within the external boundary fences. They had no contact with the subject, and only limited contact with A Force.
On the fourth of January, John was released as usual, eight in the morning, and greeted by Zack and Bob, who were smiling. Outside were three horses. Two were tall, speedy looking horses, being ridden by soldiers whom he scarcely knew. Mark himself held the third horse, much smaller, dun colored, with creamy mane and tail. She looked placid and a touch rotund. John gave Mark a smile of uttermost delight and went straight to the pony, caressing and murmuring to the small mare, and then, quite suddenly, hugging her neck, burying his face in her mane, wishing he was alone. He wanted to cry.
Mark glanced at Zack and spoke in a dry and matter-of-fact tone. “Her name’s Bess, and if you’ll just look up a moment, I’ll introduce your escorts.”
Ernest and Adam pretended not to see the wet eyes, and only explained that he could ride within the Compound with just their escort, but if he wanted to go outside the Compound, he’d be on a lead.
John looked at Mark, scarcely able to believe it. “I can go outside?”
Mark nodded. Zack took over and told him about B Force, and the external fences. John listened attentively, and only asked how close he was allowed to go before they would shoot.
“If you start to climb the fence, they will shoot. As long as you have your feet on the ground, or you’re riding your horse, you’re safe. But the men of B Force are not allowed to talk to you, and they do know exactly what you look like. Don’t think of being stupid.”
John looked into the distance a moment, that direction that for some reason, pulled him, but then said that he’d try not to be stupid.
Zack and Bob watched him ride off a few minutes later, smiling all over his face, though with long stirrups and a sloppy seat. Bob commented that he’d obviously not ridden much, but had to take back his words when they saw him flashing past at a speed that they wouldn’t have thought Bess could go. The other horses were side by side, a little behind. Adam and Ernest were expert riders and were armed the same way as they were.
John had to wait before he was allowed outside the Compound, as several men in light jeeps were sent out. “They’re sharpshooters, and have high powered rifles,” said one of the gate keepers.
“Why, are there tigers out there or something?” asked John, teasingly. He was in a very good mood.
Staid Bess pranced and tossed her head. She’d never had a rider that spoke to her quite like this before. It made her feel youthful and full of zest.
There was some rearranging. John was deprived of his reins, and long reins were attached instead, one taken by Ernest and one by Adam. “Which direction?” asked Adam.
John looked around, as best he could, and finally said that they could decide. There was a brief consultation, and John was led out the gates that had confined him so long. He looked back, remembering that it was at that gate he’d been hit with a stun gun. He laughed exultantly, almost forgetting that he was a prisoner.
Every day then, straight after his release in the morning, he rode out, only missing a few times when his escorts were not available. It was a pleasure to him, though sometimes he would have liked a horse with more speed and endurance. Bess couldn’t go as far and fast as he wanted. He came to be familiar with the larger area of army land, the areas of woods, some of it showing damage from weapons practice, and the lake. It was a favorite place of water birds, though he seldom saw any other wildlife, a few rabbits and a fox once. There were no hills and no areas very rough. In the distance to the east, well past the perimeter fence, he knew there was a much larger lake, though it was seldom in his view. He never saw any settlements, and the guards told him that there were no towns near.
He rode portions of the fence, watched curiously by unfamiliar soldiers, who held their rifles not quite at the ready. “They look as if they’d really like a chance to shoot me,” he remarked to his escorts, once.
Ernest shrugged. “They’re probably bored. Guard duty is always boring.” They’d begun to relax now that the Martian had proven to be just a man after all.
But now John started quizzing them. He wanted to know exactly what the soldiers were told about him. “They don’t really think I’m a Martian, do they?” he asked.
The pair were uncomfortable with his questions, and John glanced at them and asked if once he was back in the Compound, he could borrow one of their horses for a little while. He was refused, and Bess wasn’t interested in bucking and playing with him as he’d like her to do. She was a dear friend, though, and he loved her.
Mark watched and was pleased. John seemed contented, and seemed not to be worrying about the future. Mark worried about the future for him.
But John was not contented, and still racked his brains for a way to escape, though he’d almost stopped trying to make things move just by thinking about it. That piece of film had to have been an April Fool’s Day Joke. Even when he skipped his shave, and attempted it later, in his tree, he failed. It was risky, as he suspected that his jailers were still alert for that particular action, but he couldn’t do it in any case. To avoid suspicion, he didn’t shave again until the following morning, as if he’d only been a bit lazy that day. They may not have noticed, of course, just one day’s beard growth.
More facilities were provided for the soldiers. Now there were two hot spas side by side, as well as a sauna. Close to the gymnasium, a physiotherapist took up residence. She was a qualified physiotherapist, specializing in sports injuries, but she was also an excellent masseuse. Clare had a small, external office where a list was left, and members of staff could write down their own names in their chosen appointment slot. When not occupied, she often sat reading in this area, or joined the staff as they swam or exercised. Then she had her clinic area, and leading from that, her sleeping quarters, though she often went to her own home at night.
John didn’t seem able to keep his eyes off her - and didn’t go near her. She waited. Clare was not a soldier, and the John Doe was her job. She didn’t think it would be difficult, not after she was shown film of him laughing for joy as Bess reared and pranced for him. She’d seen film of him in the shower, too. He was not only to be made more content, it was long known that secrets were divulged in bed. But John only looked at her with an overwhelming yearning, and stayed away.
Isaac urged him to go to Clare, as a massage was so relaxing. John looked at Isaac with a troubled expression, and stayed away. They knew he was sexually frustrated. He had no privacy, and there were obvious indications. But he liked the spa, and one day, Clare joined him. A meaningful jerk of Zack’s head ensured that a soldier decided he needed a sauna rather than a spa right now.
Clare spoke softly, gently, frankly. He looked up briefly, hopefully, and then said bitterly that he was watched every minute of the day. How could he?
Clare smiled. “Is that all? My room is private. I’ll give you a massage, I’m free right now, and then, if you want to....”
John looked at her, and his reply was so fervent that she laughed. The massage didn’t last long. John held her close afterward, and said, almost crying, that he didn’t think he knew of anything else that could possibly feel so good. It was not until the second time that he noticed an unfamiliar action he’d taken - the tiniest surge of the mind that vanished semen. It seemed something that was part of sex, but when he thought about it, it was not a part of sex, just something that always came after. There was no memory of the reason, but he assumed for contraception. And maybe after all, he was not a normal man. Could he do other things then?
Not long later, he nearly fell out of his tree with surprise as a twig vanished from the palm of his hand. He made it come back again,
actually an identical twig conjured, though he didn’t know that, and then he vanished it again, repeating the actions until he noticed Rudy’s exasperated shouts from far below. He was to come down. It would soon be dark. Rudy was relieved when he finally seemed to hear him. He was beginning to think he’d have to come up after him.
He was a joy to be with that week, laughing, joking, acting as if he was having the time of his life. Every day, he had an appointment with Clare, though she discovered no secrets except that he was a very good lover. Men were all different, and she never gave a thought to an apparently scanty ejaculation.
The rest of the day, he worked his magic, learning to move things, vanishing and re-conjuring things, still only small and inconspicuous things. The day that he idly played with the wire fence as he talked to Rizo with his handler Marty, and made it vanish and reappear under his fingers, he knew that now he had a real chance to escape.
He resumed watching Davies as he trained. He was doing some interesting things with the men, and sometimes he participated, not worrying that his participation was probably planned as just another way of discovering his capabilities. They were disappointed one day, though. It was to be a sort of verbal IQ test, and John showed interest in participating, but just before a start was made, he looked straight at the camera that observed, and said casually that, after all, he didn’t feel like playing soldiers that day.
Isaac, watching the action on screen, laughed, although he was disappointed. Bloody man, but even that action revealed how much he knew of the position of the cameras, and how much he guessed of their motives.
They tried him with foreign languages one day, but it was not a very subtle test, and he chose not to reveal that he spoke almost every language they tried. He told Clare, later, that he reckoned he was English, and when she asked why, he said it was because every now and then, he found himself thinking about Bloody Yanks!
His own conclusion agreed with theirs. His accent was English, although an expert on accents was unable to narrow it down further.
He was nearly always lured into the action events that Davies came up with, especially if there was competition. The teams never knew whether he was an asset or not. He was quick and agile, and apparently fearless, but sometimes there were delays as he felt blindly around for the rope, for instance, or fell straight into the ditch he was supposed to jump over.
One day, he took his turn climbing to the top of the tall tower, and then tilted his head slightly as he groped for the rope that he knew was there. But when he found it, he whooped with joy as he soared through the air. Davies roared at the reluctant ones who followed, that John could do it, even half blind, so certainly they could do it, too.
John was back in line waiting for his second go, when he took a few uncertain steps out of line, and said softly, “Rudy?” The next moment, he was on the ground, rolling and whimpering, fists pressed to his forehead. He stopped moving fairly quickly, his eyes open, agonized, his palms pressed flat on the grass as if for strength.
The last time he’d gone down, the pain had only lasted a short time, and that had been the only episode in months. Isaac, when he came, said they’d wait and see, not move him. The men were sent away. This time, the agony went on and on.
After two hours, he was getting too cold, and Isaac decided they had to take him inside. Disturbing him as little as possible, he was gently lifted onto a stretcher, and although he seemed to lose consciousness at the movement, he didn’t fit. The faint lasted until he was in his bed in Ward 3. Isaac had learned from previous experience with him. There was no painkiller, no touching, the room was kept very quiet, and the light was dimmed. John endured, although knowing less and less of anything but the pain as time went on.
It lasted a little over thirteen hours, then his body finally relaxed as he sunk into a state of deep unconsciousness. The EEG sensors were finally attached, and Isaac looked worriedly at the characteristic coma pattern, but after a while, the waves changed to one indicating a more normal sleep. Isaac thought he could relax now, and went to bed, leaving him in the care of the nurses.
John wanted a shower the moment he woke, though slapping a face-washer rudely at an observer who seemed too curious. The see-through wall even formed one side of his shower. The observer recoiled, but only a few minutes later was calling urgently that Isaac needed to be fetched, as John went down again.
Isaac had him put straight back into bed, and attached the electrodes for the EEG again, but the disturbance caused fitting, which gave way to more pain which just seemed to go on and on.
John’s eyes looked at Isaac without recognition, no longer knowing anything except the agony that was his world. Day and night merged, the terrible pain alternating with periods of unconsciousness, though there was little fitting this time, only occasionally in response to interference or noise, such as when the bent IV stand fell to the floor. Isaac knew he was in a very bad way when he didn’t notice that he was now on an intravenous drip. He didn’t use restraints. Having him panicking and fighting now could be the last straw, and Isaac cared for his patient.
The times when John was awake and free of pain, he always wanted a shower. He sweated so much when he was in pain, but Isaac always refused, and his refusal was justified, as again and again the pain hit, usually only minutes after he woke from sleep.
Twenty-five days it lasted, but stopped as suddenly as it started. John was very thin, very pale, and weak as a kitten. But when Isaac asked what he wanted, he grinned and said that he thought it was definitely time that he saw Clare, who would undoubtedly know just what he needed. Isaac said that if he couldn’t walk that far, he certainly couldn’t do anything else. John’s eyes twinkled, and he said that he could definitely do something else. The report came back later. It seemed that he could. Clare thought that her room was private, though John wasn’t so sure, and always insisted that it be darkened as much as possible, and showed a liking for being under the covers.
Davies was very happy to see him, though for the first time in a while, it seemed that John remembered that he liked to be a pest, mocking and interfering when he drilled the men. Davies cursed him, and stalked over to him, but John looked at him with bright, merry eyes from a thin, pale face, and Davies noticed that he held a cane again. The blast of fury was muted.
John resumed his rides very quickly, though only walking around the Compound on Bess to begin with, Adam and Ernest acting as personal guards. He could go further when he rode Bess, and he spent a lot of time walking her around the perimeter fence, sometimes turning her so that she looked straight at the fence as he peered, head tilted slightly to the side. He was able to see better when he was on a horse, and there were a few days that he spent watching the gates, the guards very alert. But all he did was watch.
Once he seemed a bit stronger, Adam and Ernest brought a different horse for him, a taller, faster horse. And he whooped in joy as the three galloped together, thundering around the external perimeter track. Except for that ill-considered flight triggered by holding a baby, he hadn’t attempted escape, but Mark was alert to any behavior that indicated that he might. Two or three times a week, he would join him in the staff dining room, though he knew that the lower ranking soldiers didn’t appreciate it. John just greeted him as ‘Mark,’ and spoke to him as easily as he did everyone else.
John was making plans, and was becoming fit again. He thought he could probably drive a car, it couldn’t be that difficult, and he’d have to get as far away as he could, as quickly as he could. But he didn’t try to work his telekinesis, not until he was over the latest illness.
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