Outside the Box - Chapter 3

3 

Beep. Beep. Beep. It’s steady, a rhythm that sounds almost like my own heartbeat until I realize it is my own heartbeat. 

My eyes fly open and the events of the past … day? … come back to me. I remember the fire. The person who carried me out. The sound of the sirens and the cool sheets that someone placed over me. I never want to be hot again. 

I’m in a place I never wanted to be. A hospital. 

When I was younger, my grandparents were both very sick. In fact, they were in the hospital for years and years prior to my birth. My mom was worried sick about them and we visited them. Every. Single. Day. Finally, they passed away, a month apart. But after spending so much time in one, I never wanted to see a hospital again. Look how that turned out. 

The cool white sheets are wrapped around me. I’m wearing plain clothing that are a bit big and have holes for the patches. The IV patches are the best medicine ever invented, in my opinion. Slap one on and you’re good for 24 hours. Except, they do sting a little. 

“Ohmygoshhe’sawake!” My mother cries, and I spot her at the edge of my bed, her cheeks stained with tears. “Bridget, go get Dr. Turner.” 

“I’m okay, mom.” I mumble, my voice raspy. She hands me a glass of cold water, which a drink thankfully. My father is not far away, bouncing Juliette in his lap. Bridget has obeyed my mother’s request. 

A few minutes later Bridget returns with a female doctor - Dr. Turner - who has flaming red hair that reminds me a bit of the fire… 

“I’m Dr. Turner.” She holds out her hand for me to shake. Then she remembers my hands. I notice that someone has wrapped them with cool, white cloth that makes the pain bearable and my hands chilly. 

“Jacob Tristan, but I’m sure you already know that.” I smile weakly, rubbing my head with my bandaged hands. 

“Now is not the time for jokes, Jake.” My mother hisses, but Dr. Turner laughs. 

“It’s fine, ma’m. I appreciate humor - it  makes my job easier.” Dr. Turner faces me again. “What would make my job even easier would be to know what actually happened. What you remember, not just what the firemen said.” She adds when I open my mouth. 

I sigh. “I was walking, just like I told mom. And I took the train to the edge of the city - I wanted to see it before my ... “ Mom smiles sadly at me, showing that Dr. Turner already knows about my impending doom. “My Date. I was almost there when I saw a person. They grabbed me, shoved a cloth over my nose, and knocked me out. I woke up in a burning building, tied to a chair. I burnt off the ropes and then the firemen came.” 

My mother is tearing up again, Bridget hands her a handful of tissues. Juliette is giggling from my dad’s lap. Dr. Turner nods, taking notes on her Port-Tech. When I finish, she looks up and smiles sadly at me. 

“It wasn’t just any fire. I don’t know if you noticed a peculiar scent, but it was a chemical fire. Investigators recognized some of the graffiti left outside the building - it was an empty office building. The NightOwl gang was the one who attacked you, and they’re being tracked down. But…” 

Dr. Turner pauses. I know the next thing she says can’t be good. But nothing prepares me for what she’s about to say next. 

“The chemicals damaged your lungs severely. The only supplies we need to fix it won’t come until the next delivery in a week. I think that with what we can do, the longest we can guarantee you’ll live is … four days.” 

I check the clock. It’s noon again, which means I slept all night and morning. 

Which means I have four days left to live. 

Which means the Calculators were right all along. 

An ominous mood has settled over my room. I’m not allowed to go home, but my parents brought me everything I asked for. Eryl. Escape From Paradise. A book. 

I’ve had enough visitors to keep me company too. I can’t even use the bathroom alone according to my mom (dad did convince her I was fully capable of relieving myself on my own). But I think my mother invited every person I’ve ever talked to into the room. The nurse had to form a five-at-a-time rule. There’s a line outside my door. 

Mom and dad decided they didn’t need to be by my side all the time. I think mom knew I still had four days to go, so she had time. Bridget, Juliette, and my parents promised to return later. 

Laura and Andrew visited for a bit, apologizing for earlier. My dad’s coworkers and boss came. A ton of the other kids my age from Socialization. My mom’s friends. A few of Bridget’s friends. Most of them didn’t talk to me, and I got to the point of being overwhelmed that my nurse literally locked everyone out. 

But perhaps the most surprising visitors at all - yes there were two, although they come separately - are utterly terrifying. 

The first is Dr. Marks, who comes in when Watson from Socialization (a club for five-year olds where they meet other kids) is leaving after giving me some candy. Candy is expensive, but Watson is rich. 

Dr. Marks does not sit. He stands by the window, admiring the scenery many floors below. “Hello, Jake.” 

“Hi?” I say, tentatively. Of all people, I would not have expected Dr. Marks to come visit me. “Nice to see you, I guess?” 

“Indeed, it is nice to see me, isn’t it.” He says to himself, admiring his reflection in the window. I avert my gaze and Dr. Marks laughs, but it doesn’t seem funny. “Do you have any idea why I’m here?” 

“No.” I admit. “Although I assume this is the point where you’ll tell me I’m special, try to get something from me, and then get made when I deny you your information.” 

Maybe a little too thick on the sarcasm, I reprimand myself for being so careless. Dr. Marks is so powerful in the government world that all it would take is one accusation against me from him and I’d be gone. Not that I’ll be here much longer anyways. 

Dr. Marks turns to face me. “I’ve always admired your sense of humor, Jake.” 

“I’ve only met you once.” I say truthfully. 

“I’ve heard many things about you.” Dr. Marks shrugs, pacing now. “And you’re … guess of why I am here is partly correct, in one sense.” 

He takes a slow seat in one of the armchairs, but not before dragging it up to my bed. 

“You are a very special boy, Jake.” He whispers, eyeing the door like the nurse will come barging in. “But not in the way you’re thinking. You are not the Chosen One. You are not magical.” 

“Darn.” I mumble under my breath. Dr. Marks glares at me. 

“There are some people in this world who are … different. They see things - hear things - that aren’t really there.” I tense up as Dr. Marks seems to whisper these things in my ear. Does he know, or is he bluffing? “These people are very special, Jake. They serve many purposes to us - but us I mean the Calculators.”

I suck in a breath. I know where Dr. Marks is going with this. 

“If someone, let’s say, were to confess to having these visions, the Calculators would be willing to work with the said person. The said person would also have rewards beyond their wildest imagination. Money. Supplies.” Dr. Marks leans closer, I can feel his hot, sticky breath on my ear. “Or perhaps, maybe, just maybe, the said person could have their Date changed.” 

I can’t tell if Dr. Marks is bluffing or not. He leans away from me, a smile splayed on his face. He looks satisfied. He thinks the deal is sealed. 

“I don’t know anyone who has these visions.” I say carefully. “But if I were to meet someone, I would recommend they see you.” 

Dr. Marks frowns. “You don’t want me as your enemy, Jake. I am a very powerful man.” 

“I can see that.” I note. “No one in their right mind would want to cross you.” 

“Four days.” Dr. Marks sends a look in my way, an all-knowing look. He knows everything. Then he walks out and closes the door behind him. 

I sink back into the pillows, letting out my breath. 

But soon the door opens again. It’s another surprising visitor. One I don’t even recognize at first. 

“You.” I snarl when she walks into the room. 

It’s the same dark haired girl from the supposed NightOwl gang, the girl who held at knife at me. The one who ambushed me. 

“Me.” She sighs unhappily. “Look, I’m sorry about …” 

“Oh so now you’re sorry.” I grumble. “Now that I have four days to live and voices in my head.” 

“Four days?” She asks, looking up. I can see her better now that she’s stepped out of the shadows. Her dark hair is actually lighter than I thought, although she still wears all black. “I didn’t know.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” I sigh too, feeling a bit bad for being a jerk to her. But then again, she did almost succeed in murdering me yesterday. “I don’t go around advertising my death exactly.” 

“I didn’t want to kill you. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the others were around me. I tried to let you escape, if you would’ve just run…” She begins, nearly in tears now. “I warned them not to start the fire. You’re just a boy, a little boy. I told them that, and all they said was I needed to stop being so empathetic.” 

“Look, I don’t care anymore.” I rub my temples. “Who are you and what do you want?” 

“I’m Leah.” She smiles warily. “And I’m here to warn you.” It’s my turn to be confused now. 

“Warn me about what?” I ask quietly. Dr. Marks could still be in the hall. 

“About certain people.” Leah says, voice barely a whisper. “Certain, higher up, people. They want others that they think have … special abilities. Such as visions.” 

“How did you…” 

“When we knocked you out I was the one charged with dragging you the building a tying you down. You talk in your sleep, apparently. I heard you mumbling things. Box. Must escape. Prisoner. Things like that.” Leah shrugs before leaning close just like Dr. Marks did. “But I knew them from somewhere. And then I realized it was because I had those too!  Visions, where the world goes dark and words appear in the abyss.” She sounds excited now. I don’t know if I should trust her. 

“And how do you know I wasn’t just dreaming?” I ask skeptically. 

“You mentioned visions earlier.” Leah points out. I curse. 

I’m about to say something when the door opens again. Leah takes a large step backwards, pretending we weren't talking. My parents stride in. Leah darts away. 

“Who was that?” My mother asks, watching Leah go. 

I shrug. “Another kid from Socialization.” 

My mother looks suspicious - Leah doesn’t exactly look my age. But then again, people rarely look their age around here. Plastic surgery is common among older people, and sometimes younger people too. 

“We came to say goodnight.” My father interrupts. “See you tomorrow.” 

I nod. “Tomorrow.” 

Bridget waves, and Juliette copies her. My mother smiles before leaving with my father. The nurse shuts the door and promises that she’ll stop visiting hours for today. 

I thank her and lean back against the pillows propped up on my bed. 

And just has it’s done many times before, my vision goes dark. There is no voice, there is only a single word. 

Wake. 

It isn’t a question, or a sentence fragment, or even just a random word. I can feel the way it’s supposed to be taken. It’s an order. 

My mind jumps to the girl two years ago who jumped from the building prematurely. The day is a bit fuzzy in my head, but there are many blank spots - you can’t remember every single day. 

But the girl’s body was never found. And if she jumped, wouldn’t they find a body? It’s not like jumping would make her body disappear. 

Unless… 

All the clues are coming together now. I think of the messages I’ve recieved. 

Times are changing, you need to escape. Question your reality, this isn’t what it looks like. The Box is holding you back. Hurry, you are their prisoner. Wake. 

All of these notes are telling me to look at what’s around me, to realize what I’m actually in. And now I think I’ve figured it out. I can’t wake when I’m already awake. But the message meant something else. 

I climb out of my bed, careful to not make a sound as I creep across the floor. 

Quietly, I unlatch the window, opening the glass to reveal a world so far below. 

I realize now why the city seems endless, why it goes on forever. I know now that this world isn’t just my home, it’s my prison. And I will escape. 

The streets is so many floors below, the sight makes me dizzy just looking. I see the unsuspecting people on the sidewalk, strolling back to their apartments for dinner. Walking along with their children. They don’t know anything. 

The sky is dark by now, a blanket of black covering the city. Stars speckle the night like sprinkles on a cake. 

Dr. Marks was right. I am special, and not the Chosen One or magical special either, not even the way he thought. I am special because I saw through his facade. I saw the truth, I saw our prison for what it is. 

I perch on the windowsill like a bird, but I am not a bird. I do not have wings. I can not fly. I can fall. 

I don’t hesitate. Those who hesitate will be stuck here for ever. 

I push myself from the window, and I feel the wind tear at my thin clothing. It wants to tear me apart, but the wind can not have me. I have already sold myself to the ground. 

The time it takes to fall from my window to the ground seems to take forever. 

I can see the people below me look up and move away, pointing at me like I’m some miracle. I can see the parents covering their children’s eyes. 

In my head I can see my family's disappointed, grief-stricken faces. I wish I could tell them, but it is too late now. Down, down, down I fall. The ground is approaching rapidly now. I wonder if it will hurt. 

I slam into the ground full force, pain spreads through my body as I can hear the screams all around me. Someone calls for help, but no one will be able to fix me. 

Because I am not broken. 

I am free.