Quantum Poppers by Matthew Reeve Page A

hand was
a tracksuit top that still smelt of sweat from his last run. Appearance had no
meaning in this place. His stubble was half an inch long which made his weekly
shave pathetically something to look forward to. He was able to stare into the
eyes of a bearded and bedraggled man and watch him change into a bedraggled
clean-shaven one. This was a highlight.
    He had
tentatively pushed the holding cell’s door that so often was locked. It swung
open. The two followers fell into view, each looking more on edge than normal,
checking their watches and glancing up the corridor. The door closed and
Bartley, who held his arm out, indicated for John to lead the way.
    ‘Where are we
going?’ he said as he led the three men forward, allowing his eyes to adapt to
the fluorescent lighting. ‘Another loop?’
    ‘Do you know
what day it is today?’
    ‘Very funny. I
gave up caring about that 229 days into my capture.’ He could sense the cringe
Bartley was no doubt giving at the use of this word. The thought managed to
break a smile onto John’s lips - any little dig at these bastards.
    ‘Today I will
show you that life goes on. And we hope to give you some semblance of reality
to your situation. It has been exactly one year to the day since you arrived
here.’
    John stopped
walking. There was no smile now. One year? Imprisoned. His thoughts fell
straight to Jennifer and Jessica. His two beautiful girls without a father. And
then to Caroline, his beautiful woman without a husband. A lump rose in his
thought but he didn’t cry - dead men didn't cry. He began walking again.
    ‘So this is my
treat is it? An accompanied walk. The treat could have been an unaided one for
a change.’
    ‘I’m afraid
this one needs to be aided John. Please stop.’
    John stopped
again and closed his eyes, forcing back tears as he tried to recall the last
time he had actually seen his children. He hated that he couldn’t recall
specifics - just that it must have been a routine morning and a routine wave
goodbye with a kiss on the cheek as he had headed out to work.
    ‘And turn to
your left.’
    John turned
robotically and faced the locked door, one of which he had passed so many times
and not given a second thought to. This time however he noticed a small box
above the door. It looked like a doorbell and had one small red blinking LED on
it. There must be something important behind this door, thought John as
Bartley stood next to him and attempted to justify his humanity and something
else about realities and bad guys - always getting no closer to revealing any
answers.
    ‘John, this
truly is the best I can do. However I feel about you needing to stay here and
the restrictions put upon you - we need to adhere to them. It is my job.’
    John didn’t say
a word. He stared at the door, resigned to disappointment. Complete acceptance
that he’d soon be back in his room watching the interference on the TV and
looking forward to his next shave welled within him.
    ‘Maybe one day
we will explain all that is going on, but for now, this is all I can offer
you.’
    With that he
motioned to one of the guys who stepped beside John before pushing open the
door. It opened outward onto a scene John was least expecting. Daylight hit
him. It was an almost physical force, somehow strengthened by the towering
walls of the alley which lay before him. All the times he had passed this door
it had been only a barrier to the outside world and whilst it was a rain
drenched back alley to the complex they were in, complete with graffiti strewn
walls, overflowing bins and the pungent smell of blocked drains, all John could
say was: ‘it's beautiful.’
    ‘Sorry about
the rain.’
    ‘It's somehow
fitting.’ The sky was overcast. Dark clouds had plumed and were throwing their
rain upon the already soaked concrete pathway that led away from him like some
magical wet brick road to who knew where. He could hear distant traffic as if
they were near, or only part of, a