Read Online Escape by David McMillan - Free Book Online Page B

urgency.
    ‘I’ll come and see you as soon as I’m out!’
    Out of what?
    English Martyn was repairing a Walkman when I wished him farewell. We found ourselves speaking of Daniel. I mentioned Daniel’s strange celebration of the old man’s death thrust under the sand truck when we had been waiting for court transport.
    ‘He was asking me about suicide,’ Martyn said. ‘What would be the best way.’
    ‘What did you tell him?’
    ‘Twenty Vesperex and a big plastic bag taped over the head. Only way to be sure, short of a twenty-storey building.’ There was never any judgement in Martyn’s voice.
    Daniel was alone when I walked over to say goodbye. He had no plans to move to greater Klong Prem. The last thing I recall him saying was about that moment when babies are getting ready to cry.
    ‘They try to draw in all the air they’ll need for the cry. But sometimes it’s never enough. They are so full of unlimited outrage they can’t stop drawing in. They go purple, suffocating because there is never enough air in the world to do justice for the scream they want to let loose. So they’re just frozen like that.’
    Well I’d had about enough of that sort of talk and with most of the people I’d so far met in the Cure. Even Dean’s vapourware was healthier than the prevailing atmosphere of hopelessness among Westerners in Bumbudt. I have no idea what happened to Daniel and left him there. I joined Eddie at the gate where he was tying together pots, pans and bags of clothes. Eddie no longer wore chains but we still had to hire two Sherpas to help with the long walk through twelve gates to our next prison. There were twenty-one in this transfer, including six foreigners.
    Greater Klong Prem was too big to take in at once. Even the reception building—a prison in itself—seemed massive compared to the cramped layers of the Cure. Our last kilometre of pathways leading to KP had kept us busy chasing runaway dinner plates and retying loose clothes to the shoulders of our helpers so we were all disorientated. Finally we dumped our bundles at the gate to Building Six like Bedouins at a dry oasis.
    The trusty in charge of new foreigners greeted us. His name was Tanveer, a tall Pakistani with huge feet clinging to the edges of hard leather sandals.
    ‘You guys will be in Six until you go to other buildings. About a month or so. You’ll be assigned a factory for work and must do training in the mornings. This will teach you how to be prisoners.’ Tanveer half-heartedly poked through our possessions. He seemed disappointed but continued.
    ‘Radios are not permitted. Newspapers are also not. I must take away any long pants and contraband items. These will be put in the storeroom until you are released.’ A mystified pause followed as we looked among ourselves for any who might have a release date within our lifetime. No one spoke.
    ‘Cash is forbidden. You leave your money on account. Food can be ordered from the outside shop three times a week. You can get cash from the bank here in Building Six. But don’t be caught. Books you can keep.’
    While everyone repacked his possessions I nodded sideways to Tanveer.
    ‘What is it?’ he asked.
    ‘I’ve got a radio. What does it take to get it back?’
    ‘See me in a couple of days.’ Tanveer’s eyes darted about before he announced to everyone, ‘Don’t tell anybody.’
    At that time in the afternoon almost the entire accommodation block was empty. We were led upstairs past garage-sized cells, many with plastic flooring, a screen around the toilet and mosquito mesh at the windows. Tanveer stopped in front of a cell. At the door rolls of bedding and clothes were stacked to head height. A key boy unlocked the door. It was empty, small and had no screens.
    ‘Stack your stuff on top of everyone else’s. You won’t have enough room inside.’
    This was no exaggeration. After fifteen of us had moved inside, the cell was full. With twenty-one, it was packed.
    ‘Sorry,