So for my third remix I decided to take the last lines of Chapter 4 and play off of the cliffhanger. This is the scene in which Marcus is finally released for the first time and is grabbed by Van and Jolu. Instead of having him freed, I have him pulled back into the truck. I then use the classic Doctorow cliff-hangers and theme of youth in revolt over the next few chapters.
It was daylight outside, gray and drizzling. I was looking down an alley toward cars and trucks and bikes zipping down the road. I stood transfixed on the truck's top step, staring at freedom.
My knees shook. I knew now that they were playing with me again. In a moment, the guards would grab me and drag me back inside, the bag would go over my head again, and I would be back on the boat and sent off to the prison again, to the endless, unanswerable questions. I barely held myself back from stuffing my fist in my mouth.
Then I forced myself to go down one stair. Another stair. The last stair. My sneakers crunched down on the crap on the alley's floor, broken glass, a needle, gravel. I took a step. Another. I reached the mouth of the alley and stepped onto the sidewalk.
No one grabbed me.
I was free.
Then strong arms threw themselves around me. I nearly cried.
Chapter 5
Then as they dragged me back up each staircase, I did cry. It was past my time to consider my own personal pride. I sobbed. I sobbed and didn't care if they knew I was sobbing. Having been so close to freedom, so close to my normal life again, only to be dragged back into the miserable hell-hole in which I had barely existed the last few days was the most traumatic experience of my life. That is, up until what happened next.
I was led back to my cell, half-towed half carried, which would be my home for the next two weeks. Every other day I was summoned, and asked the same questions each time. It seemed as if they didn't find any information that they expected to find in my e-mail and other devices. Now all they asked was,
"Why were you there Marcus?! Why were you so close to the bombing and why in the hell were you not going towards the safe shelter?!" Severe Haircut Lady was stuck on the same point and refused to believe me when I told her the truth. Sick from the same questioning over and over and also due to a lack of water and food from the past two days, I inquired back on the fourth day.
"How are you going to explain this to my parents?"
"Oh that won't be a problem. Remember that packet you so willingly signed off on without reading?" My heart raced as I realized the mistake I had made. "You signed off voluntarily giving us the ability to hold and question you as a witness of a major attack on our country. We can officially hold you for 28 days."
Blood rushed to my face and tears rushed to my eyes. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction though. But as she sniggered at my reaction I lost it. I writhed in my chair, the plastic handcuffs cutting into my wrists. Tears rushed out of my bloodshot eyes. I nearly urinated all over myself… again.
"Wow. If you're this bad after four days imagine how you'll be after ten? Fifteen? Or how about twenty? Why don't you just cooperate and tell us the truth Marcus? That way you and your friends will be better off."
Her emphasis on the and made me shiver. Where were Van and Jolu? Where was Darryl? The thought of my friends going through the same thing I was because of my own actions as the de-facto leader of our group infuriated me.
"WE DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE BOMBING!" I hollered back. "WE'RE GOD DAMN HIGH SCHOOL KIDS!"
As she went through her normal charade about how we are the "exact prototype" that terrorists look for, my vision began to fade. I had exerted too much energy without having food or water or anything of sustenance for so long. My body couldn't handle it. My mind zoned out even more and I saw her motion for a guard to move towards me but it was too late; my chair was tipping and my eyes were blacked out before I hit the ground.
Chapter 6
The next 48-hours are very hazy in my memory. I was in and out of consciousness. All I truly remember is the vision of a doctor examining me and giving hushed orders to a nurse I could not see. I could only make out his outline, not his face. The only distinguishable feature of the room that I recognized was the IV Pack towering over me. I remember looking at it and realizing that it was essentially the only thing keeping me alive. At one especially perturbing moment of my dip back into relative consciousness I remember thinking, "If I die, they will be punished. If I die, that could be my payback." For a split second I wanted to die. For revenge. But I managed a barely stable heartbeat. And then I slept.
I woke up back on the floor of my cell in what seemed to be the early morning hours of the next day. Apparently I was in a stable state again because there was no longer a comfortable hospital bed, doctors and nurses, or even an IV keeping me alive. Once they realized I would survive they dragged me back to my cell and threw me right back onto the ground.
"Bastards," I whispered under my breath though clearly nobody would hear me. It was the first moment of peace I could remember from that prison. The first time the shuffling of guards in the hall could not be heard or the distant screams of another interrogation victim.
Unable to fall back asleep, I simply sat there. My thoughts wandered. I felt rested, and less upset than the day before. Then I thought, "Was that the day before?"
My compilation of memories from the hospital bed could have stretched over an hour or a week. I had no way of discerning them. This scared me. What more could have happened in the time I was out. What about Van? Jolu? Darryl?
But my thoughts were unable to stray any closer to the subjects most dear to my heart. Food was shoved in the door flap. It was my first time seeing actual food in what seemed like months. Even though it looked like some disgusting form of a stew, my heart raced and my stomached growled at the sight of it.
I paused a moment, waiting to make sure it was not another trick. After what seemed like an hour but was probably 30-seconds I gave in and lunged at the bowl. I grabbed it and was not struck, not grabbed and was even able to maintain the food. I ate the soup/stew concoction in less than a minute. My stomach was still not satisfied.
Later that day guards summoned me and I was given exercise time in the yard. As I felt fresh air for the first time in over a week, my lungs felt as if they were screaming in rejoice. I lounged around, observing my surroundings. My mind felt stronger than it had since the original bombing. I began examining the prison when I finally realized something; there were no other prisoners in the yard. Each time I had been outside before there were other prisoners.
Then I noticed a group observing me from what looked like a poorly hidden guard tower. Two women had clipboards and were staggered behind a man. It took me a few seconds to jog my memory and then I finally recognized the man. He was the vague figure of the doctor who was caring for me.
My thoughts were stuck on this point as I glared back at them as they carefully observed me.
"What had gone wrong when I was out?" I thought. "Why are they so intent on watching me?" Then I thought about the soup.
"Did they poison me?" I began to panic. I knew it was too easy. I should have known they wouldn't have given me that food so easily. I began pacing back and forth. I stuck my finger down my throat and tried to make myself throw up. When this failed I began showing more signs of anxiety. I briefly saw the doctor motion towards the guards, then I saw the guards begin advancing on me as I stumbled. Then everything went black. Again.
Chapter 7
I was summoned again. But this time was different. I was asleep on the floor of my cell when the door burst open. Ready to face the usual guards I was astonished to be face to face with Severe Haircut Lady as I stood up. I was so shocked that I stumbled backwards and nearly passed out again. Really, her haircut is that bad.
This was the first time she had come directly to my cell. She glanced at me with a look in her eyes I had not seen before. She looked at me with an uncomfortable sense of empathy.
"Marcus." She paused. She never paused before she spoke. It was if she was going to vomit out the words she was about to say. "How are you feeling?"
Well that explained her resistance to saying it. But why did she care?
"Fine I guess." I replied. Not knowing whether to supply attitude or weakness. "What's it to you?" I went with a little of both.
"Marcus," she started up again, ignoring my slight hostility. "You were sick. Very sick. Close to dying in fact. We had to care for you."
She was nervous. I had the sense that I had the upper hand as she continued, "We had to give you some drugs to keep you alive." She bit her lip at this. She was not content with about she was about to say. "The drugs we gave you… They've never been used before."
My sense of the upper hand vanished. What had they given me? Did they poison me? What was it? Was I going to die? Before I could even ask any of these questions she began explaining how I was to be released immediately. I was to be taken on the next ship to shore like before and set free. This wasn't a lie either. This was different. Her speech remained skittish, I could tell she was not lying. My own nervousness escalated exponentially; and then she said,
"But we will be watching you Marcus. No matter what you do. We will be watching you. Make one false step and you'll be right back in here."
I felt nauseous. Was it part of the mysterious medication they had given me or was it just in my head? I convinced myself I wouldn't throw up. My mind fazed in and out again as I was sent on the same whirlwind I was the first time I was "released."
This time it was real though. Somewhere on the ship ride to shore I regained my discernment in order to recognize this fact. I was going to be free. But as the truck drove over bumps and stopped at the hauntingly familiar stop, I realized I didn't want to be free. None of my questions had been answered just as I could not have answered theres. I began screaming for the Severe Haircut Lady, shouting questions about the drugs. What were they? Will I be okay?
But it was too late. She was not there. Just two guards. Or three maybe. I still had a bag on my head. One opened the door and two carried me down the steps. They removed the bag stepped back and closed the truck door and began driving away. I shouted a fain last attempt for answers but they were already around the corner before I finished my sentence.
I turned to the alleyway I was in. It was a familiar part of town. I began to walk. Desperate for anything. Anyone. But most desperate to be in that jail. And answers.
No comments:
Post a Comment