Kent watched Reese walk out of the room. He had nothing else to say to him and while he did have a truck load of questions, it was all useless. He would never return to the laboratory.
In the bathroom, "hi mom, Brie…" Kent practiced.
"What if Brie hates me?" He asked his reflection in the mirror.
"She could never hate you." The voice in his head countered. Thankfully, whatever it was that was right in his line of vision was transparent so he quickly splashed cold water on his face.
It was very strange but very few normal things had happened to Kent in his short 28 years on planet earth.
His reflection looked nothing like him. The man in the mirror had hollow cheeks, yellowed eyes, and hair that clung to his face like wet thread. He looked closer.
Was this what survived the lab? The prison? Kent no longer remembered what he looked like before prison but the reflection in the mirror looked like a husk.
"Brie wouldn't recognize me even if she wanted to." He said to his reflection.
His looks never mattered to him but it did worry his mom growing up.
He shook his head. None of that mattered while he was trying to stay alive.
"Everyone must have been crazy." He said as he started to wear the items Reese handed to him. Not before checking for anything out of place. He trusted Reese but not the men he worked for.
They could easily tail him and put his family in harm's way.
"I'll deal with this when I'm home but I should probably try to see if I can minimize this in any way…um… hide? Disappear?" He tried all the synonyms of the word but with no success.
Kent sighed, scratching his head. Nothing worked.
He exited the bathroom and headed towards the door. The door was too obvious. Cameras. Eyes. Uniforms.
"It could be a trap." His mind said and he smiled. His heart rate quickened. Kent looked at the windows that Reese opened.
"Oh old man," he chuckled, "always leaving subtle riddles."
Kent appreciated the thought. If he couldn't decipher this little, he had no business being a free man. America was only peaceful to the wealthy and influential. From Reese' story, there could still be a number of people who didn't believe in his death.
"I need to be stronger." He thought to himself as he walked towards the window.
Head poking out, Kent observed the road below. It was relatively busy and he was thankful for that. A quiet street would increase the chances of him being noticed.
He was at least on the fourth floor giving the height.
Without taking a look back, Kent thrusted himself out of the window. It took eleven seconds for his feet to hit the pavement. Counting time was a survival skill he picked up back when he was under Reese.
A soft thud, no bones broken.
He glanced up, "that's at least 10 floors. Off by a mile."
Kent's eyes darted around. There was no one in sight.
"Good." He said before examining the ground he was standing on.
No notable damage.
Kent smiled. "Here I was thinking that I would mess up a prison escape." He said to himself as he started walking. Reese was kind enough to give him new footwear. It felt strange and he much preferred his worn out sandals.
"I guess this is what shoes are now." He said.
Kent appreciated the buildings all around. There were people out on the street and street stalls. Everyone looked to be moving on from the trauma of the incessant fighting and killings.
"Not me though." He said in his mind.
"I'll never forget." He voiced as he made it out of the alley where the hospital was. He reached in his bag and felt a small bundle.
$200. Eleven years ago that was the equivalent of gold. It had always been pennies to Reese and his employers so the gesture didn't necessarily move Kent.
He was still grateful though. With determination in mind, Kent sought out to find the nearest bus stop. He didn't know if he's find a bus or a bullt. But he was going home.