The Blind Path to Freedom

The darkness in the tunnel was absolute. The experience was like what they imagined being in deep space would be like. The void that surrounded them needed to be filled with something, and the darkness itself was drawing their bravery from them. The group had given in to English’s leadership, each person relying completely on the hand in front of him or her to lead the way; were they to lose hold of one another’s hands, disaster would surely ensue.

They had been in the tunnel for perhaps ten minutes or more when English became aware of the tension in the group behind him. Before entering the tunnel, the group had been chattering nonstop, but as soon as they began their journey into darkness, the talking ceased. He stayed focused on the task at hand but wanted to do something to help the others, so he started to hum and then sing. English was not a good singer—in fact, by most people’s standards, he was very bad—but that was of little importance in the darkness under the asylum. He started off quietly, breaking the silence with, “Now somewhere in the black mining hills of Dakota, there lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon.”

“Excuse me?” Gordon said.

English rethought what he was doing and realized he might be more afraid of singing in front of people than of leading this expedition, but he went on. “And one day his woman ran off with another guy, hit young Rocky in the eye.”

English heard Steve from the back of the group say to Gordon, “It’s the Beatles, Gordo. You don’t get out much, do you?”

As English continued with the song, Emily joined in Followed by Andre who jumped on board almost as soon as he heard Emily.

“I know the song, Steve,” Gordon said. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”

The group began singing very loudly and had just about forgotten how scared they were. They carried on in this fashion until they could no longer remember all the words and the tunnel eventually faded back into silence.

It took only a few seconds of this silence for the fear to take its place in the group once again. Andre recognized English’s song had helped everyone deal with this, but try as he might, he could not think of any song other than “Rocky Raccoon.” After a few seconds of contemplation, Andre addressed the group. “I’ve been thinking about stuff my friends and I used to do back home before I got stuck in this shit hole. I just remembered a funny story, if you guys want to hear it.” There were positive affirmations from everyone instantly. “Back when I was a junior in high school, I was hanging out with a couple of my buddies, Ian and Seth, just screwing around as usual when we heard that some of the girls we knew from school were having a slumber party.”

“All right,” Steve said, “I like this story already!”

Andre rolled his eyes in the darkness. “Well, we figured, like all guys, that a slumber party meant that a bunch of girls would get together, wear next to nothing, and smack one another with towels or have whipped cream fights or something, you know?”

Emily spoke up. “You do realize that is a bunch of sexist bullshit, right?”

Andre laughed and squeezed her hand tightly before going on. “I’m only a representative of my gender; don’t blame me. So naturally we found out where this wonderful, all-girl event was being held and went over there to spy on them.”

“Naturally,” Steve said.

Andre continued with his story without acknowledging Steve’s comment. “When we got to the house, we parked down the road a ways and crept up the rest of the way on foot. This house was on a lot that was a couple of acres, and it sat right in the middle of the property, so you had a long open space in front of and behind the house. They had cleared all the trees on the lot for the most part, though, so we didn’t have any good places to hide. Well, we ended up making our way to the back of the house, and then we saw the sad, sad reality of this ‘party’: six girls, one mom, no skimpy clothing, no towels or whipped cream—nothing but flannel pajamas and made-for-television movies. Sorry to disappoint, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, “what are you gonna do? At least you tried.”

“So we’re standing in the middle of this open lot late at night and decide that we should just go do something else when these people’s dog hears us or something from inside the house and starts going ape shit, barking and scratching at the door to get out. All of a sudden, all the girls are staring out the window at us, and the one girl’s mom opens the door to let the dog out. Naturally we haul ass, but we haven’t come in from the back of the house, so we don’t know where we were going, and this dog is barreling down on us quick. All of a sudden, Seth, who is scared to death of dogs, runs straight into this sapling that’s maybe four or five feet tall. Well, he’s so scared he doesn’t even stop, and he runs right over the thing and smacks the shit out of his balls in the process!” Andre paused for a short moment. “Sorry, Emily, but it’s what happened.”

“No problem at all, Andre.”

“So,” Andre continued, “we ended up laughing so damn hard at Seth and his racked balls that we fall down, and this dog that we’ve been running from turns out to be nothing more than a beagle. Seth is lying on the ground holding his crotch, and we’re dying laughing and playing with this tiny dog. God, it was just too funny!” The group shared in laughter, once again enjoying a moment of elation that helped them suppress their anxieties.

Following Andre’s story, silence surrounded them once again; it moved in with such speed in the darkness. Emily attempted to whisper to English but was heard by all, “Do you think they know we’re gone yet?”

It had been almost thirty minutes since they began their journey, and English thought it was highly unlikely they would have been found missing yet. “No, I think we’re still OK. Even if they do, we should be long gone before they figure out where we went.” English had spoken the truth to Emily, but he knew there were other factors that could become problems for them as well: Sanders could go to the infirmary and find him missing, or the guard could check the rooms when he returned. There were a number of ways that their plans could change, but for now they continued to have only one goal and one strategy: to stay alive together.

There was a ringing noise far off in the distance behind them. Emily was the first to hear it. “Do you guys hear that?” They stopped walking and listened as the noise started to grow. The sound was pulsating and rhythmic; it sounded high- pitched and mechanical.

“What the hell is that?” Andre said.

As the noise grew louder, it hit them all at once, but it was Steve who spoke up first. “Son of a bitch! That’s the damn alarm going off; they know we’re gone!”

“Oh, god,” Gordon whined. “Oh, god! Oh, god!” “Relax, Gordo,” Emily whispered back to him.

English addressed the group, which was still motionless in the surrounding darkness. “Guys, we knew they were going to find us gone sooner or later. Granted, we hoped for later—much, much later—but that’s not what happened. Think logically for a moment: Sanders said he was one of the only people who knew about the tunnel, so the odds are they won’t even consider looking for us here. They certainly won’t look at a burned-down hospital. The plan still works; we just might want to speed up our pace a bit to ensure things.”

Gordon continued his chanting of “Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!” English knew the group was on edge but also knew they needed to get moving.

Andre asked, “Why don’t we try running?” He received only silence in response, so he tried again. “I’m not suggesting that we all blindly take off and hope for the best, guys. We’ve been doing this for twenty minutes now; let’s just increase the pace and knock the rest of this tunnel out quick. What do you say, English? You’re in the lead; is it possible?” The moment Andre had started suggesting this, English had begun to contemplate the possibility. He was struggling not to fall in the darkness anyway and knew speeding things up probably wasn’t the best idea, but the sound of the droning alarm behind them was inspirational.

“It can’t hurt to try,” English said, and they were off.

English could feel his hand getting cut on the abrasive concrete wall when they started jogging forward, slowly at first and then with more gusto as they quickly gained confidence. English was terrified of running into something in the darkness but did not want to stop—at least until his foot hit something on the ground and he fell forward, dragging everyone with him. He was flying in the void for the shortest of moments; there was no asylum, no Sanders, no escape— only floating in space until he and everyone behind him came crashing down on the muddy floor of the tunnel. It was incredibly cold on the floor; condensation had caused the dirt bottom of the tunnel to turn into a cold and almost-slimy layer of mud that the group was now covered in. “Well, that sucked,” Steve said while trying to pull himself back up.

Andre was feeling somewhat guilty at having suggested the run. “Sorry, guys. This is my fault.”

English was trying to help the others get up. “It’s not a matter of fault, Andre. We’re all on edge here, and no one wants to spend another second in this damn tunnel, so we all agreed to run. No big deal; let’s just try walking faster from here on, though.”

The group had gotten up off the ground but had become jumbled in the darkness, and they were having difficulties getting back into a line. “What if we’re facing the wrong way now?” Gordon asked the group with genuine fear in his voice.

“We’re not facing the wrong way, Gordo,” Andre said. “English was at the front of the group before, and he still is now, so we head that way.”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, “but just what if? I mean, let’s just say for a second that we screwed up and end up walking back into Hartley; what would happen?”

The group heard the impact of Steve’s hand hitting Gordon’s arm. “Then we’d turn around again and come back, Gordo. There is no other option than getting to the end of this tunnel. Get it?”

“Got it,” Gordon replied as they clasped hands and continued their voyage into the unknown.

They started once again, following the jagged wall of the tunnel as quickly as they could. Gordon cleared his throat several times. “Guys, I know you hate when I ask all these questions, but what would we do if Sanders or one of the others came down the tunnel with flashlights? I mean, they’d see us way before they got to us, and then we’d be caught for sure, and I think Sanders might just finish us all off down here if he catches us; he’ll be seriously pissed.”

“You guys want me to smack him again?” Steve said.

“No, Gordo has a valid point here,” English said. “We haven’t really talked about it, but if Sanders, Jack, or Paul catches us somehow, it’s not the same as getting caught by a guard or even the police. If they catch us, they’re going to hurt us one way or another, so I think it’s only fair for us to be prepared to fight back.” He said nothing further for some time to ensure that the idea had been fully digested before he spoke again. “I should be clear with all of you: I have no intention of returning to Hartley ever. If I have to fight for my freedom, then I will, and I hope all of you feel the same because the repercussions of our being caught are considerably worse in my mind that what could come from standing our ground.”

“Shit,” Steve said. “You know I’m with you, bud.” “Me too,” Andre said.

“I’m with you no matter what happens,” Emily said quietly. “No matter what.”

Gordon was the last to respond. “Yeah, guys, whatever you say.” It was all he could muster, and it would have to do.

The tunnel had seemed an infinite void to English and the others—that is, until they noticed the path was beginning to incline. When Emily had first pointed it out to the others, the change was subtle, but it quickly became more dramatic; they could feel their leg muscles working as they went uphill. The moment was magical; they had felt fear and panic for what seemed like an eternity, and now they could taste freedom that was only a few steps away. English stopped suddenly, and the group followed suit. “This is it, guys; I can feel the ceiling.” In almost any positive and exciting situation, a person’s first reaction is to say something, clap, dance, or do just about anything that indicates how he or she is feeling. Now, however, the group was dead silent, afraid that even the mention of their trip’s finality would make it somehow untrue.

“Hold tight a second while I check this out,” English said. He moved forward into the space where the floor and ceiling met at a sealed door. Slowly moving his hands across every inch of the exit, English made a mental map of what his hands were “seeing” in the darkness. He turned to the group. “OK, it appears that there is a metal door that is secured with about nine wooden boards bolted into the tunnel wall.”

“Oh, is that all?” Steve said sarcastically.

“The good news,” English said, trying to ignore Steve, “is that the door behind the slats doesn’t appear to be locked; there is just a latch behind one of the boards that keeps people from getting in from the outside, so once we figure out how to get these boards off, we should be free.”

“So what’s the bad news?” Andre said.

English shrugged his shoulders in the darkness. “The bad news is that I have no idea how we’re going to get the boards pulled off; they feel pretty solid.”

The group hadn’t thought things would be easy or that they wouldn’t run into some difficulties along the way, but hearing they could be stuck didn’t sit well with any of them nonetheless. Steve shuffled his way up to the front of the group. “Let me give it a shot; I’ll tear those damn things down myself.” The others backed away while Steve applied his machismo against the boards and bolts. As Steve groaned and grunted while pulling against the boards, the rest of the group waited in silence. After a few moments of this, Andre and English both sighed, and Gordon decided it was time for a break and found a dry place on the floor to sit with his back to the group.

Eventually Emily rolled her eyes to herself. “Relax for a minute, Steve. Why don’t we focus on breaking the smallest of the boards first and then use the broken board for leverage to dislodge the others?” English touched Emily’s shoulder gently, sending the message that he liked her idea, and then moved up and politely replaced Steve at the helm.

“Let me feel the boards and see if any of them are smaller than the rest.” After several moments, English continued, “OK, the last of the nine boards is a good bit smaller, so I’ll work on its center and try to snap it.” They all waited and listened intently while English grasped the board and put all his weight on its center until it finally broke with a loud crack. He wiggled one of the remaining halves back and forth for some time until it came free, and then they had their tool.

“Did it work?” Andre asked.

“Yep,” English replied. “I’ve got a board that’s about two feet long now. I’ll start working it against the next one and see how it goes.” Several minutes later, after a large amount of straining, English was able to pull the next board free at one end. He said proudly, “It’s working!” The team was elated and singing Emily’s praises for her effective idea when Steve brought the group back to reality. “Just seven more to go.”

Andre, Emily, and Steve were rooting English on as he continued working to pry the remaining boards free. Gordon, in contrast to the others, was using this time to allow his mind to wander; because of the way the mind works when deprived of any light, he had traveled far away from Hartley and its tunnel. He had taken his mental journey beyond the asylum, through the tunnel, across the river, and into Canada. He was entertaining thoughts of freedom, warm, soft beds, home-cooked meals, and television. Gordon began to imagine how wonderful the sunrise would appear the next day as they began to experience these products of genuine freedom. He could picture the sunrise with such clarity in his mind; it would start out as a tiny speck of light far in the distance, piercing the darkness. He thought he could picture it almost too well, and then he began to understand why. Gordon panicked and spoke before he even had time to fully understand his revelation. “Mother of god, they’re coming!” Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned toward Gordon. It only took a second for the group to notice the flashlight far away in the darkness.

The group recognized that the speck of light was incredibly far away, but this made no difference: they still had seven boards to remove and hardly any time to accomplish the task. “I can’t hear them yet, so that’s a good sign,” Andre said. Steve wasted no time with words; he pushed his way to the front of the group and then moved English to the side, taking their newfound tool from him in the process.

“I didn’t think they’d find us so quickly,” Emily said, somewhat to herself, but she was ultimately speaking for everyone.

Steve was clearly the strongest in the group and the best candidate for pulling the boards free; it took him only perhaps two minutes to free the next board. Doing the math in his head, English figured it would take them almost fifteen minutes to remove the rest of the boards, and they did not have that long. “We have to think of something, English,” Andre said. “If they so much as see us with that flashlight, we’re done for, whether we get out or not.” English had no doubt Andre was correct but didn’t know a way to accomplish their task faster.

“Can two people work on pulling the boards free?” Gordon asked.

“No,” English replied, “there’s not enough room for two people to work over there, but maybe…” He stopped talking so he could develop his idea in his head, and then he leaned in next to Steve—without disrupting his efforts—and started to measure with his hands.

“Maybe what?” Andre asked.

English pulled back behind Steve to where the group was. “I think we can squeeze out without removing all the boards. The latch is in the middle, and based generally on our sizes, if we can take out about two or three more boards, we should be able to get out.” He did the math in his head again and knew that, even with this effort, it would be extremely close. They all placed their hopes in Steve, who was working diligently at removing the boards; all they could do was wait and pray.

The concrete wall of the tunnel tightly gripped the bolts holding the wood slats in place; they had been there for years. Steve was unrelenting in his efforts to pry each board loose as quickly as possible; he could not help but notice the light down the tunnel getting closer and brighter. There were three boards left to remove before they would be able to squeeze out of the opening, and he was only about halfway through with the first of these when they first began to hear the orderlies’ voices.

“Holy shit!” Gordon said. “They’re so close I can hear them; we’re screwed.” “Nah,” Andre said, “we can’t even make out what they’re saying—just that they’re talking. I figure we’ve still got several minutes to get this done. We’ll have it done in time, right, Steve?”

Steve replied between groans, “We might if you don’t ask me questions while I’m trying to work here!”

Emily stepped into the conversation. “Look, guys, it stands to reason that if we can hear them, they can hear us, right?”

English replied, “She’s right; we shouldn’t talk anymore. If you need to, make sure it’s a whisper.” The group quickly agreed on this arrangement and was silent with the exception of the noises being made by Steve’s efforts. English felt for Andre’s shoulder and leaning in very close to his ear, whispered, “If we don’t get those boards free in time, be ready for action. There’s no turning back now. Agreed?”

Andre whispered softly, “Agreed.”

Steve had placed the small board behind the larger one he was trying to remove and leaned back, using all his weight against it. The bolt burst free from the concrete with a loud snapping noise that frightened the entire group. There were two boards left to go, English thought, and they had six or seven minutes at most. When they had first noticed the flashlight, it was tiny and distant, but it had now grown in size; they could make out the beam of light’s movement, which flowed with the stride of its owner.

Steve was sweating; he could feel his heart racing as he worked to pry the next board free. The voices down the tunnel were becoming more audible and gaining shape; soon they would be able to make out what the men were saying. He leaned far into position and pulled with all his might, finally freeing the next board and handing the loose object back to English. They had carefully stacked the boards against the wall beside them; Andre had already procured one as a weapon in case he needed it.

Steve had wedged the small board behind the next slat to be removed, put himself in position, leaned way back, and pulled, but nothing happened. The voices were growing in volume, and the light was getting brighter; they could make out one another’s shapes in the darkness now. He got in position again and pulled with all his might, but nothing happened again—it didn’t budge even the smallest amount. English turned to Steve. “We’re out of time. What’s the deal?”

“It’s stuck,” Steve said quietly but with passion. “I don’t think I can do it in time.” Their hearts were racing; this was the moment of truth, and they would have to fight the orderlies coming toward them.

English rushed forward and pushed Steve to the side. He fished his hand up behind the final board and reached for the latch with his fingertips. “Come on. Come on,” English said out loud but to himself. “Got it!” They heard a metal clink as the latch popped open. English pushed up against the door in the small exposed area where the boards had been removed, but it did not move. He turned to the group and saw that the lights were much closer than he’d hoped.

“OK, here’s the deal,” he said. “I’m going to get this door open, and we’re just going to have to squeeze out of the space we have.” They eyed the opening, which was only about eighteen inches wide, with concern. “When I hit this thing, it’s going to make a lot of noise, and they’re going to hear us, so we have to move fast, OK?” They all nodded their approval; for the first time in almost an hour, English could make out their movements.

English lined himself up underneath the overhead door and thrust his shoulder and torso straight into it, causing an incredible banging noise. The door gave way about a foot or more; English did not even look back to see if the orderlies were coming before he lined up for another hit. He dove upward into the door again; this time it did the trick. The door flew upward and fell back on itself, wide open. He felt the cold air and rain collide with his face and enjoyed it for only the shortest moment before wiggling forward out of the hole. He was unable to drag himself all the way up, so Steve got under English’s feet and pushed until he was free.

There was no question in any of their minds that the men down the tunnel knew they were there now. The voices turned to shouts, and the flashlight became a predator searching for its prey. Outside of the tunnel, English was lying in mud, trying to get his bearings. He heard Andre’s voice shouting, “Move, move, move!” from within the hole next to him, and then he saw Emily emerge slowly. English spun toward the tunnel and started to help Emily come through the tiny opening; her eyes were wild with the flow of adrenaline. He could hear the yelling coming from within the tunnel and guessed they had no more than ninety seconds or possibly two minutes before they would be caught. As Emily wiggled out of the opening, Gordon’s head was already coming through; they could not afford to waste any time whatsoever. Both Emily and English worked from above to pull Gordon free while Steve and Andre pushed from behind. He was a tight fit for the opening, but they couldn’t wait; his back was bloody by the time they’d finished pushing and pulling him through the opening.

There were only seconds left before the men would reach the end of the tunnel. Steve had pushed himself through the hole and was struggling to get free while Andre pushed from below. Andre turned and saw the two men coming were only perhaps a hundred or so yards away; they would be on him in a heartbeat. He threw his body into Steve’s legs while the group pulled from above and watched him pop out of the hole. Without bothering to look back at his pursuers, Andre dove forward into the rainy opening above him. Steve and English grasped his arms as soon as he was exposed, and they started to pull; Andre screamed in pain. “I’m caught on the board; stop pulling!” English saw everything happening in slow motion; he was about to lose his friend to the psychopaths below.

“Go back in and come back out to free yourself from the board!” English screamed. Andre obeyed without question and dropped back into the tunnel, where the two orderlies were just behind him. Andre hit the ground and without hesitation, sprang directly back up into the hole, where Steve and English caught him and started to pull again.

Both Steve and English thought he had to be stuck on the board again when they were unable to pull him free from the hole. “Oh, god!” Andre screamed. “They’ve got my legs!” Everyone understood from this that the two men below had just started a human tug-of-war no one could afford to lose.

“Come here, you little shit!” The group heard from within the hole. English and Steve were holding on to Andre with all they had.

English looked Andre in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry; you’re not going to like this.” Then he turned to Steve and said, “Everything you’ve got on three. One, two…” Andre had terror in his eyes. “Three!” English and Steve leaned back and yanked on Andre’s arms, using their entire bodies for leverage. It was too much for the men below, and he came shooting forward out of the abyss and into the rain.

English turned and went for the door immediately; there was no time to waste. As he started to lift the door to close it, Jack Barrister’s head and arms came through. He shouted, “Come here! Quit running, you bastards!” English wouldn’t be able to close the door while Jack was in the way. Steve, seeing the dilemma, walked calmly toward Jack’s face and arms, looked down at the man he hated so much, and kicked him square in the face. English closed the door on top of the now-empty hole, hardly recognizing the fact that, for the first time in a long time, they were out of Hell.