Out Of Time (Book 0): Super Unknown (8 page)

Four weeks later

“Alex,”
Scarlett mumbled as she groggily awoke from what felt like a really long sleep.
There was no response, so she forced her eyes to open.

“Alex?”

She
glanced around the room and realised she was in a hospital. A pretty grotty
hospital at that. The yellowing walls looked like they hadn’t been painted in
years, the fluorescent lights had a fair few cobwebs attached to them and her
bed sheets looked threadbare and disgustingly grim. Where on earth was she –
the middle of a war zone?

“The
Jane Doe’s awake,” she heard someone shout, then a nurse came running in.

Scarlett
looked at the woman, who was wearing a mint-green dress and thick-rimmed
spectacles with her hair up in a severe bun. She had a mean, stern look about
her. “Where am I?”

The
nurse narrowed her eyes in response, before snapping: “Hospital, dear. You’ve
been here for four weeks.” She had a way of saying ‘dear’ that made it sound
like a scathing putdown rather than a term of endearment.

“Did
the lorry hit me?” Scarlett started to remember her last waking moments.

The
nurse looked at her like she was crazy. “No, dear. It seems that you had a
tumble in the street and hit your head. You’ve been unconscious all this time.
You’re lucky that a stranger found you and called for help.”

“But
I remember a lorry coming towards me and Alex.”

“Who,
what? There was no road accident, and you were admitted on your own.”

“But…”

“You
rest dear, the doctor’s on his way.”

A
few minutes later, an important-looking man in a white coat entered the room.
He appeared to be a little kinder than the nurse, but Scarlett still didn’t
trust him.

“I
think she’s got amnesia,” she heard the nurse whisper, not very quietly.

“Hello,
I’m Doctor Johnstone.” he said. “It’s certainly good to see you awake, how are
you feeling?”

“Alright.”

“Good,
good. Well, we’ve been running lots of tests and you’ll be pleased to know that
we’ve found no major problems physically.”

Well,
that was good news, but Scarlett still had a horrible gut feeling. She looked
around the room suspiciously. Something didn’t feel quite right.

“It’s
curious really,” the doctor continued, “we expected there to be much more
damage, considering how long you’ve been unconscious, but you’re absolutely
fine.”

Scarlett
was taken aback by how disappointed he sounded. It was like he wanted there to
be something wrong with her.

“Maybe
the shock knocked you out. Do you remember what happened?”

“I
think I was hit by a lorry. I was crossing the road.”

“Impossible.”

“I’m
certain!”

“You
were found down a back alley. A moped would have trouble getting down there.”

Scarlett
was very confused. None of this made the blindest bit of sense. All she wanted
to do was find her friend and get out of there.

“Where’s
Alex?”

“Who’s
Alex?”

“My
friend. He was with me.”

“No
one was with you… sorry, what’s your name? You didn’t have any ID on you.”

“Scarlett.”

“And
do you have a surname, Scarlett? So we can contact your family.”

“Shortt.”

The
doctor scribbled it down on a piece of paper and handed it to the nurse, who
strode out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Something told Scarlett
that the nurse didn’t like doing extra work.

“Now,
Scarlett, I need to run a few final tests to make sure you’re fully OK now
you’re awake.”

“I
thought you said I was fine?” 

“Just
normal procedures, such as blood tests… Is that OK?”

It
sounded anything but OK, but Scarlett nodded all the same. She was desperate to
get this over with and leave. This hospital was giving her the creeps.

Ten
minutes of being prodded and measured later, he’d finished.

“OK,
we’re done,” he said.

The
doctor carefully placed several blood samples into plastic envelopes, then
washed his hands. As he was preparing to leave, the nurse came running back in.

“She
doesn’t exist.”

“What?”
asked the doctor.

“
What!
”
Scarlett yelled. “What do you mean, I don’t exist?”

The
nurse looked at Scarlett suspiciously, like a teacher who suspected her pupil
of playing a heinous prank. “Just that. Your name isn’t listed on any files
anywhere. You don’t exist.”

Scarlett
scowled back at her.

“There
must be some mistake…“

“The
system doesn’t
make
mistakes. Are you sure your name is Scarlett Shortt?”

“Yes,
of course I’m sure.” she sighed. She realised there was no point in arguing
with these crazy people.

“Look,
young lady. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but we need your
real
name
so we can call your parents.”

The
teenager sighed in frustration. “Scarlett
is
my real name. Try looking
up Alice and Tom Shortt. They’re my mum and dad.”

“OK.”
They both looked at her sceptically, then went to check out her claims.

Scarlett
glanced around the room. This was the dodgiest hospital she’d ever seen. It was
damp, dark and totally run-down. Where was she exactly and why did the doctors
think she didn’t exist?

She
noticed her clothes were hanging in some kind of excuse for a wardrobe in the
corner. It looked like rickety 1970s shelves with a pole stuck near the top.

“Forget
this,” she said.

She
leapt out of bed, yanked the tatty hospital gown off, then strode across the
room and pulled on her skinny jeans and T-shirt.

As
she got dressed, she counted all the reasons why she should do a runner. The
doctors didn’t know who she was or what kind of an accident she’d been in. The
whole place was a shambles, so she’d might as well sneak out, head home and get
her parents to take her to a proper hospital.

Scarlett
zipped up her leather bomber jacket, ran her fingers through her black bob in a
bid to look presentable, then scanned the room. Where were her Converse?

Suddenly,
she heard footsteps approaching. She needed to get out of here, but she
wouldn’t be able to run very far in bare feet. The steps were getting louder – as
were the nurse and doctor’s voices.

“Please
don’t come back in the room yet. Pleeease,” she silently prayed. Her heart was
racing.

“Think
straight, Shortt. Calm down and
think
.”

Scarlett
spotted her shoes by the door. “Phew!” She raced over and picked them up. At
that exact moment, the footsteps stopped and the door handle started to turn.

Her
body tensed up as her eyes glared at the handle.

“Doctor
Johnstone?” she heard another voice say.

“Yes?”
he barked.

“We
need you and Nurse Cook over in the Nightingale ward. It’s an emergency.”

The
handle moved back to a closed position.

“Very
well, come along nurse.”

Scarlett
listened intently to them walking away, then pulled on her shoes, crept out of
the room and tip-toed down the corridor. She panicked as she wondered which way
to head next. These places were always such mazes.

Her
eyes darted around looking for a clue. She almost jumped for joy when she
spotted a green-and-white sign saying ‘Exit’ at the end of the corridor, then hurried
towards it as urgently as she could without drawing too much attention to
herself.

“Thank
goodness,” she thought as she approached the door, happy to be almost back in
reality. She couldn’t bear to be in this hellhole a second longer.

And
then she stepped outside.

It
didn’t look like anywhere she had been before. Where the hell was she?

Scarlett
stood on the main road outside the hospital and stared in disbelief at the
world before her. This couldn’t be London. Could it?

Everything
was so filthy and grey, a million times more so than usual. All the shops she
could see were boarded up and barbed wire ran along the high concrete walls and
metal gates that lined the rest of the street. This was not a good place to be.

As
she crept past a menacing gang on a street corner, she wondered if it was such
a smart move leaving the hospital on her own. She didn’t know what part of
London she was in and she wasn’t sure how she could even find out. Sticking to
the main road should be her best, and probably only, bet.

Scarlett
kept walking for 30 minutes, desperately staring at the street signs in the
hope she’d recognise one, but everything seemed so strange to her and the
people were unsettling too. She felt uneasily on edge and turned to look over
her shoulder every two seconds to be sure she was safe.

A
car full of boys slowed down as they drove past.

“Alright,
love? You looking for a good time?” one of them drawled sleazily.

Scarlett
ignored them and quickened her pace.

“Hey,
baby, don’t be scared,” he said.

She
chose not to acknowledge them in the hope that they’d go away.

“Oi,
you stuck-up snob!” another shouted. “Think you’re better than us or
something?”

She
wanted to shout and tell them to get lost, but she knew that would make things
worse and one girl didn’t stand a chance against five boys.

The
traffic lights ahead were turning red, so she ran for her life while they were
stuck in the queue of cars. She heard them shouting something, but she was
sprinting too quickly to listen.

As
she raced round a corner, she saw something that made her hope her luck had
finally changed – the entrance to London Bridge Station. Hopefully, she could
find a payphone inside and get a train home to East Dulwich too.

“Spare
50 quid, love?” a homeless man on the steps asked her.

Fifty
pounds? Cheeky devil. Did she look loaded?

Then
she looked down and realised there were at least 20 homeless people outside the
station. She felt terrible.

“Sorry,
sir,” she said, avoiding his gaze, then quickly made her way inside.

The
station was completely empty. Scarlett looked at her watch – by her reckoning,
it was 5.30pm on a Friday evening. Shouldn’t the place be hustling and bustling
with eager commuters all desperate to get home? She usually felt claustrophobic
and angry crossing this station, but tonight there was no one here. The
concourse was eerily empty. Just then, she saw a member of staff appear from
one of the platforms.

“Excuse
me,” she yelled as she ran over.

He
growled and walked away.

“Excuse
me!”

He
was gone.

She
trudged round to the ticket office, only to find it closed. Scarlett screamed
in frustration. A bedraggled woman leaning against the wall pointed at a
useless-looking machine a few feet away.

“Thanks,”
Scarlett muttered.

The
woman stuck her hand out, thinking that pointing out the obvious deserved a
reward. Scarlett fumbled around in her jeans pocket, but all she could find was
50p. That was better than nothing, right? Clearly not. The woman snatched the
coin, spat at her and stomped off.

“Well
that was rude,” Scarlett said before turning to the ticket machine.

Out
of order.

“Argggghhhh!”

This
was not her day. She dashed over to a payphone she spotted on the wall, but
that was broken too.

“For
goodness sake!”

Then
she saw a cash point. She figured she’d might as well try to get some money
out, but despite squeezing her eyes tightly shut and wishing intently that the
machine would work, it swallowed her card.

“Account
not recognised!” the screen flashed up.

Scarlett
kicked the wall in anger, then nursed her throbbing toe and walked back onto
the street, darting past the people outside. She stopped and sighed wearily
once she was away from the station. She had never felt so lost and, as much as
she hated to admit it, scared.

Spotting
a group of people staring at her, she figured it was best to keep moving and
walked towards the river.

Wandering
beside the Thames always cheered her up, so she strolled along the South Bank
until she reached the National Theatre. She was surprised to see that all the
glass-fronted restaurants were closed, she was sure they’d all been open when
she’d visited just weeks ago. The world had turned very, very strange.

Exhaustion
suddenly washed over Scarlett, so she sat down for a second to gather her
thoughts.