Ducie by Chris Freeman
Chapter 25. Familiar to millions
Birmingham, England – 2011.
Adam no longer felt the need to run. He’d been moving for half an hour now and had made it to a place called Wylde Green, about a mile from the park he’d just escaped. He knew nothing about this small collection of shops either side of a busy main road. The road signs indicated that Birmingham and Sutton Coldfield were to be found left and right respectively. This meant nothing to Adam. There was nothing of note that stood out as a distinctive landmark in this place. Some shops, a road, traffic lights, a petrol station, some tall buildings that looked like grim residential dwellings, the smell of food being cooked nearby. He recognised the intoxicating aroma of Indian cuisine. Adam was a big lover of mealtimes and that particular smell reminded him of the curry served at the Institution canteen. Fragrant, spicy sauces, served up in sort of mini wok bowls with metal handles on either side. A delicious thought under normal circumstances, but here it just served to remind him of the place he’d escaped from and that turned Adam’s stomach enough to make him wretch a little.
An elderly gentlemen in a flat cap, with a strange smell about him that Adam didn’t recognise as stale alcohol leant over him as he spat the last of the vomit remnants onto the damp pavement.
- Are you alright son?
Adam flinched at first, half expecting to see someone he recognised and was relieved, as the blur of watery eyes cleared to reveal this complete stranger.
- I’m fine mate. Thanks. Just ate something that didn’t quite agree with me.
- You know what’ll sort that out for you, don’t you son? A good fry up and some hair of the dog.
Adam had no idea what the man was talking about, but nodded his appreciation for what he presumed was medical advice and resumed walking, guided only by what he thought was the opposite-most direction to the Institution.
As he realigned his bearings, he struggled to remember which direction he’d come from originally. He looked back at the man in the flat cap, who was now flagging down a bus. Had he been walking the same way as that man originally, or had he crossed his path? The struggle for a reference point made Adam feel woozy. Then he noticed behind him, a shop with a sign that had caught his eye as he’d originally entered this little village or town or whatever it was. At the time, it had only registered as vaguely familiar, but this second glance made him curse his brain for not placing where he’d seen that large, golden letter ‘M’ on a red background before. Something inside his head was trying to offer forward the correct memory, but it just wouldn’t come. Suddenly realising that he was wasting time, he quickly gave up on this frustrating conundrum. He knew which way to go now at least.
Adam turned and made his best effort to increase the pace of his walk to a light jog. He trod a few unsteady steps at first, but gradually found a bit of momentum, as he made steady progress away from the Institution, away from Pype Hayes Park, away from Wylde Green and away from what you and I know would instantly recognise as the famous golden arches of a McDonald’s restaurant.