Edward slowly became more aware of his surroundings, and started to plan an escape. He had to do it only during the day though. Archer was gone then, and Kimblee seemed to be gone, although Edward honestly didn't trust him to ever be truly far enough away. He slowly sat up on the bed, and tried to swing his leg over to the floor. Pain was radiating through his open ports, and there was some kind of tube running from a vein in his arm out to a small grey box on what might have once been called a bedside table.
Edward cautiously tugged the tube, and with a sharp pain, it came out of his arm, allowing a river of blood to drip down and pool along his palm. Edward gave a little hop and made it a few feet closer to the door. Feeling brave, he continued, and made it out the door, and into a dark, damp hallway. The carpet under his bare foot felt wet and a pitifully thin cat peered out at him from another open door further down the hall. Edward took a long breath and kept going. By the time he reached the end of the hall, he was feeling rather good about this, sure that he could escape.
He didn't count on the stairs.