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37. Chewing Gum

I was in my old family home standing at the top of a flight of stairs. I peeked between the wooden banisters and, somehow, was able to squeeze through the gap. The drop from the second floor bedroom, which had formerly been an attic, down to the first floor was enough that I would surely break a bone or two on impact. I hurled myself over and entered free fall. Instead of immediately falling to the ground I dove forward, somersaulting over and over at a glacial speed. I'm falling, I thought, falling, falling, falling.

My head hit the wall on the other side of the stairwell near the bottom step. The bump on the head I received was like headbutting a cushion.

Oh, I thought, I'm dreaming.

I was standing instead of falling through the air. This is my old house, I thought, spotting the old red sofa I knew so well, where I had sat and watched so many movies with my Dad. I looked around some more, gliding through my childhood home, the fringe of my vision hazy as if it were degrading film stock.

***

I woke in a cold sweat. My body shuddered, as if coming back to life, and all at once I became aware of the medical ward I was in. It was empty, with several other beds that could be curtained off, but weren't. The room was darkly lit as if it were night time, having the same quiet to it that a hospital would have during the early morning hours.

Am I broken? Was my first thought. A quick spasm of my body told me that, no, I wasn't. I felt fine; restless even. I was no longer in my overalls but a simple white medical gown. My feet were exposed to the still air that was chillier than I would have liked, but not unbearable.

My hands and feet were strapped down as if I were a mental patient, or criminal.

Don't panic, I thought, It's probably just a precaution. Don't. Panic.

I stayed still, feeling dizzy and slightly drowsy, as if the bed and the ward I was in were moving just a little bit beneath me as if I were on a ship at sea. There was something on my right index finger hooked up to the machine that beeped steadily beside me.

Still alive, I thought, that's great.

I didn't try to break out of the straps, though I did test how tough they were. I doubted even coiled up that I would be able to rip myself out of them. They were strapped so tightly I doubted I could slip out of them either. There wasn't anything for me to press to call for a nurse, assuming one was available in this situation; and I didn't want to call out for anyone simply because I was dreading the inevitable scolding I was likely to receive.

My body was making its demands known whilst I sat thinking in the dark. I needed to pee, but not too badly. I also thirsted for some water, enough to be uncomfortably thirsty. And, most demanding of all, I really felt like going for a run. Just the thought of coiling up again plagued my mind whilst I sat in the dark enough that I considered coiling up despite being on my back strapped down on the bed. Would it be so bad if I coiled like this? A part of me thought, like the devil on my shoulder. No! Obviously not, idiot! My better self said.

The two were at war for two hours whilst I sat in the dark trying to think of anything else to occupy my mind.

I missed TV, and music, and mindlessly browsing the internet. I needed to spend some downtime doing something trivial like that. Since the evacuation started I hadn't had a chance to enjoy my usual media comforts and, alone in a quiet, dark room, the absence of those things was becoming pronounced.

I knew I had dreamed something about my childhood home before waking up, but the details were quickly forgotten; what remained was homesickness.

Sudden footsteps drew my attention to the double door entrance to the ward. Motion-sensing lights flickered on above upon a middle-aged man with a bald head and a beard that was black and tinged with gray. He was dressed in a white lab coat and was of Arab ethnicity. Spotting me awake, he crossed the room without saying a word and approached my bedside. He showed little in the way of emotion as he read the little green readings coming from the machine taking my vitals beside me. I noticed he was wearing a large, expensive looking gold watch.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a voice that told me he wasn't particularly concerned.

"Okay," I said, "Dizzy; a little nauseous."

He didn't say anything more to me and instead left the ward before I could muster the courage to ask him about my current situation. The lights to the ward had flickered off again by the time new footsteps filled the silent space about ten minutes later, illuminating Abigail and Mike's entrance to the ward.

Abigail walked briskly, her heels clacking loudly on her approach.

"Burgess," she said, the way one might scold a dog for causing a mess.

She immediately saw to undoing the straps.

"Help me with this," she said to Mike, who got to work fiddling with the strap around my right foot.

"What's going on?" I said.

"We had to put you out," said Abigail, "Because you lost control and you were putting yourself and everyone else at risk."

"I didn't know things would get out of hand like that," I said.

"Oh forget about it," said Abigail, finishing up on the last of the straps, "How were you to know? You can relax, you're not in trouble. We just couldn't risk you combusting on us."

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I glanced at my Meter, bringing it closer to my face. It was showing a steady green. It better, I thought, after all the calories I must have burned.

Mike sat on the bed to my right. He was a tall guy, heavyset, so he took relief by taking the weight off his feet. He looked tired.

Abigail moved to the end of my bed and sat down.

"Dr. Abdullah said your vitals are fine. You're a-okay so far as your vitals go. How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," I said, repeating what I said to Dr. Abdullah, "And nauseous."

"Right," said Abigail, clearly not getting the answer she was looking for, "Anything else?"

I thought about my urge to run. It was still there gnawing at me. Logically I knew it was stupid to want to do so after what I had just been through, but another part of me just kept saying, can we run yet? Can we run yet? Can we run yet?

I considered how much I trusted Abigail and Mike. Did I want to let them know how badly I wanted to start running again? Would that honesty get me into more trouble? Would they decide it better to leave me drugged up and strapped down until they could trust me not to go for a run the first chance I got? Better yet, could I trust myself? I considered what I wanted to tell them for too long, my silence surfacing that there wasn't much more for me to say.

"You can go back to the third floor tomorrow," said Abigail, "You're currently on the fourth floor; it's where we handle most of the hands-on research and, if needed, where we can take care of any medical treatment which needs to happen."

"How long has it been?" I asked.

Mike checked his watch, "About six hours," he said, "Since they put you out."

That would make it late evening-ish.

"Look, Burgess," said Abigail, "From now on you can't push yourself like that unless we give authorisation for it. You're here to help us with our tests, not to do tests of your own."

"Okay," I said, "Sorry."

"You weren't to know," said Abigail, "We should have explained better that the exercise area is to get your Meter down to a safe level, not to conduct your own exercise experiments. We have previously given the other mice the warning not to push themselves, but in the rush to accommodate the new arrivals like yourself we didn't cover that part in the induction."

"Sorry about that, mate," said Mike, "We'll cop to that mistake."

"It's fine," I said, "I'm sure it's a lot trying to handle everything that's going on."

Neither really responded to what I said nor did they object. The near silence in the ward continued save for the humming and beeping of machines. It seemed to me then both were less interested in speaking with me but were instead just taking a break from the grind of their jobs.

"If you need the toilet there's a bathroom outside this ward and down the hall to the left," said Mike, "You're on camera everywhere you go so just go and come back, keep it cruisy, okay?"

"Sure," I said, softly.

Mike sniffed and stood to his full height.

"Get some sleep," he said, "Tomorrow morning you'll go back to the third floor."

I was going to ask about getting something to eat, or having something to do to pass the time, but I figured since I wasn't in trouble it was easier just to go with the flow.

Abigail and Mike mumbled something to the sound of 'goodnight' and then left the ward together.

My mind raced for the remainder of the night going over everything that happened in the exercise area. I had lost control and had pushed my body too hard. Scarily, I didn't even feel like I had pushed my body remotely close to its limit of what it could achieve. The part of me that hadn't been able to keep up was my mind. I thought about anything and everything through the night, staring into the dark corners of the ward, enjoying the alone time I was able to get yet simultaneously feeling lonely and homesick.

Although I couldn't tell if it was midnight or not, I left to get up and go to the bathroom at what felt around that time. My overalls and plimsolls had been stuffed into a bag which was kept at the end of my bed; I put the plimsolls on before heading out of the ward then down the corridor and to the left, finding the men's toilet.

After going about my business I took some time to look at myself in the mirror above the sink. I didn't look any different. This somehow came as a disappointment. I didn't know what it was I expected. My muscles were no longer swollen as if I had put in the effort to have an incredibly fit body after a year's worth of training in the gym. I was just the usual, skinny, un-athletic, me.

I slurped up a lot of water from the tap at the sink, peed a second time, then headed back to bed. The blanket which had been draped over me, though hadn't been placed properly when I was out to cover my feet, was surprisingly good at keeping off the chill, and came as a nice respite once I was back in bed. I didn't sleep deeply because of all the thoughts whirling around in my head; instead I enjoyed laying curled up like a prawn for many hours during the night.

When morning came I was wide awake and felt refreshed despite not sleeping much at all. A Pied Piper officer came to get me. After telling me to change into my overalls, which I did whilst the officer looked away, I then followed the officer to the elevator. Like the other times I had to pass through the checkpoint where a handful of Pied Piper officers stood with guns (tranquilizer and the real deal). The bits and pieces I saw of the fourth floor seemed to me like the space was largely going unused, though the ward had been close to the elevator leaving much of the level unknown to me.

After taking the elevator up to the third floor and going through yet another checkpoint the Pied Piper officer gave me the all clear to continue into the third floor proper without their continued supervision.

My immediate concern was to get something to eat. It didn't matter what. I had gone without dinner and, as a perpetual snacker by nature, continually putting off meals in the last few days was becoming a chore. Time to settle in and take things really easy, I thought to myself, no more pushing yourself. Despite thinking this however my mind nagged at me to go for another run. I wanted it even more than breakfast. No, I said to myself, over and over again. The need wasn't relenting. What if it never went away?

I made my way through the maze of white corridors towards the cafeteria. I followed the signs and tried to remember how I had found my way before. I had to stop twice to get my bearings, but it was getting easier to figure out which way to go.

I was close to the cafeteria. Someone touched my shoulder. It was Tiffany, but there was something different about her.

"Hey," she said, clearly concerned.

She embraced me in a firm hug for a few moments, having to crouch a little given our height difference. Then she pulled back, keeping her hands on my shoulders.

"Please tell me you're alright," she said.

I continued looking at her as if deeply confused. She was chewing gum, but that wasn't what was strange about her.

"I'm alright," I said, "Sorry."

She jabbed my shoulder.

"Twat," she said, "I almost died of a heart attack when I saw them carrying you off."

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled again.

There was something different about her, but it wasn't obvious what it was. Then, finally, it clicked.

"Tiff," I said, "Are you wearing make-up?"

"Huh?" said Tiffany, looking almost offended by the notion she might be, "Nah," she said, "Why, do I look like I am?"

Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. If I didn't know any better her face looked more feminine in very subtle ways.

"Sorry," I said, yet again, "I think I'm just out of it."

"It's fine," said Tiffany, "You hungry? Want to get something to eat?"

"Yeah, that would be good," I said.

Together we headed off towards the cafeteria.