Super Meals: Part Thirty

            Earlier that day, as Jane was performing an autopsy on her baby sister, Adam was confused.

            He was lying down, he was naked, and it was dark. Beyond that, he wasn’t certain of anything.

            He could remember eating…something. There was a man who brought some fast food to him and the cops let him deliver it. It was quite good – some strange new test meal or special burger – he’d never heard of it or had one before, and he couldn’t remember ever seeing it on any menu.

            Didn’t he say that he’d been signed up for some special test program or something? He didn’t remember signing up on the fast food chain’s website, but with companies sharing or selling emails to each other these days, who even knew what they were signed up for online anymore?

            He was lying on a flat, cold surface. His joints were stiff, but he could sense the feeling coming back a little bit at a time. His fingers slid over the surface – it was smooth, like metal, and he tapped his fingernails on it, hearing it ring.

            Wherever it was, it was enclosed. He flexed his muscles one at a time and as he regained the ability to move his arms he reached out to his sides and felt the walls around him. They were smooth and metallic as well, and when he pushed his arms against the sides, the platform he was lying on rolled with him.

            So whatever he was on, he thought, was on wheels, or rollers, or a track. It only moved a few inches, though, forwards and backwards before thumping against walls again. He reached up above his head and felt the wall above and behind him, but found nothing. As he got mobility back in his feet, he rolled himself down and felt around at the bottom of the enclosure. There were seams around the sides, and it was cold on the soles of his feet. He pushed against it and the table he was on slid back a few inches, and then stopped.

            When he pushed against the bottom with his feet again he felt it shift just a hair. Maybe it would open?

            Scooching his butt down the table until his feet were flat on the door, he flexed his legs and worked at bending his knees to push against it. Little by little his strength came back until he could actually kick at it. He kicked as hard as he could and barely heard a thump.

            No strength.

            He kicked again, hoping to draw attention to himself, but, if anybody was there, they weren’t responding.

            He kicked again.

            And again.

            The door began to pop now, but not open all the way.

            Until it did.

            He had no idea how long it had taken him to get enough strength back in his limbs to kick the door open, but the room beyond his little cubbyhole was empty. A single caged light bulb on the ceiling gave off a weak, pale glow, but after being unconscious for…how long? He didn’t know. However long it was, he had either had his eyes closed or been in the dark the whole time, so even the terrible lighting was blinding.

            Pushing against the side walls again, he wheeled the table he was laying on out of the hole and gradually opened his eyes.

            The room was narrow, but long. Square doors three high ran the length of the room. At one end was another flat, steel table, but on wheels. At the other end was a set of double doors – they had steel pads on them for people to use when pushing them open, but no doorknobs or locks.

            That meant he could get out.

            Next to the double doors at the end of the hall was a set of coat hooks on the wall with several white lab coats hanging up on them.

            He took a step forward.

            He fell flat on his face.

            From the floor he reached up and felt his nose, fearing it was broken or bleeding, but, thankfully, he hadn’t landed hard enough. He reached up and grabbed the handle on one of the doors and tried to haul himself upright. It took what felt like forever, and he worked his way upright one limb at a time. He got one knee under him, then the other. Resting on his haunches, he reached up to the next door handle and pulled, making his way into a squatting position. When he was finally standing upright, he couldn’t even walk. He slid his feet forward in a slow shuffle, laying on the doors and walls the whole way.

            Reaching the end of the hallway he reached out and took a lab coat, wrapping it around his shoulders and buttoning it shut.

            Half-sliding, half-falling, he slipped through the swinging double-doors into the hallway beyond.

            It took him ten more minutes to walk the ten feet to the staircase.

            Twenty more minutes and he was at the top of the stairs.

            It only took him five minutes to walk down the hall to the front door of the morgue, lean on the push-bar, and stumble out. He made it to the alley and fell around the corner.

            As he did, Mimi exited the building, got in her car, and went to pick up Walter.