Beyond the Tree House

by Gudrun Frerichs

  “Calm down, you pathetic bitch, or you’ll regret it.”

  He pushes me into an empty room to his right where two male nurses already wait next to an iron hospital bed.

  “Where is Scottie? What have you done with him?”

  “Taken care of.”

  They push me onto the mattress and fasten my hands in the restraints hanging on the bedposts.

  “Be still. Do you hear me? Be still.”

  Raymond goes to the sideboard at the wall and comes back with a syringe. He holds it up, flicks at the needle with his finger, and grins as he injects it into my thigh. My thinking gets fuzzy. The bastard had it all planned. Everything is ready and I’m the gullible twit who ran into his trap. Ready for the taking.

  But why…?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lilly: 24 March 2017, Gateway

  I don’t mind waking up in the body. Something about a new day, a new beginning, and new possibilities excites me. Today is different though. Different and painful. My mouth is dry like the Sahara and the funny taste in my mouth goes with a strange smell that causes unpleasant ripples in my stomach.

  Is it time to get up? The light behind my eyelids tells me it is but my limbs feel like someone filled them with lead and anchored them to the bed. I try to open my eyes but it appears someone glued them shut. Where am I? And how did I get here? I try to breathe more deeply to stem the rising anxiety. The last thing I need is getting a panic attack.

  I look inside for information. Someone of the Tribe knows what happened. It’s just not me. But nothing other than gaping nothingness is greeting me. Odd images come flapping at me from the vastness of my mind, like sheets of washing on a clothesline: sitting with Simon Baker in his car, standing at an iron gate, sitting in a room full of people listening to kids singing. I kind of remember, but I can’t connect the dots. I hate when that happens and wish I could pinch myself, but I can’t even move my fingers. Pathetic!

  Distant whispers—it’s hard to tell if it comes from inside or outside of me—distract me. It doesn’t sound nasty and gets louder as if someone turns up the volume of a radio. Someone is coming. Is it someone who could help me get out of here?

  “Look at her. Is that vomit at the side of her head?” I don’t recognize the female voice. At least, she doesn’t sound hostile, more disgusted. Vomit? That must be the taste and smell I noticed earlier. The woman wipes my face and hands with a wet, warm cloth and removes the source of the putrid smell next to my head. Then they remove a cover and pull a fresh sheet over me.

  “Can you pull your side a bit tighter under the mattress?”

  A door opens and another female voice says, “How are you getting along? All good?”

  “She’s still out cold. This one is no problem. How about her partner?”

  “He’s not a problem anymore. Peter clubbed him over the head when he found him trying to leave the room. Now he’s got a big bump on his head and is out. He’s talking in his delirium, calling out for this one here. What’s so special about her?”

  “Nothing that I can see. Ray wants us to make sure they are both awake for tonight.”

  I can’t panic. I can’t panic. Where is the Tribe? I need them to help me understand what happened. My recall has large bits missing as if someone has ripped crucial pages out of a book.

  “Work would be so much easier if we’d put them together. How either of them can be a danger to us, is a mystery to me. Look at her.” The woman giggles lifts my arm and lets it flop back onto the mattress.

  “He’s always super careful, almost paranoid, don’t you think?”

  “Well, that didn’t help him last year, did it? Sebastian had to take the fall for him.”

  “We’re done. She’s still out cold. I don’t think we need to give her another dose.”

  Think. Think. Think. I try to make sense out of their chatter. I must be at Gateway. By the sound of it, something is going down tonight and Scottie and I are the special guests? Going by what I know from Maddie’s experiences, I’d rather pass.

  As my head clears up, more pictures flutter in. Ah, I understand. Simon Baker lured Scottie and Elise to Gateways.

  Chocolates.

  My stomach does a backflip. There was something in the chocolates.

  So when they convicted Sebastian Feldman, they got the wrong guy? Or at least they didn’t get the whole stinking lot. Is Raymond the puppeteer or is there someone else in the background pulling all the strings?

  The nurses leave without giving me another injection. I strain my ears, but I can’t hear a key turning. That’s my chance. If they left the door unlocked, I have a good chance to get out of here. I rub my face and open my eyes. There is no time to lose. I have to get out of here and do so quickly.

  Easier said than done. My body is still heavy and numb. I have to wake it up. After a while of rubbing, poking, and squeezing my legs and my arms, the blood is circulating better. I spread my fingers and make a fist, pushing my arms back and forth, and stretch and flex my legs. With every minute I feel more awake.

  I do sit-ups in bed hoping that the dizzy feeling goes away.

  Carefully, one leg at a time, I slide to the edge of my bed and try to sit up. It takes three attempts, but then I’m sitting. My head is still swirling around as if I’m sitting in a swing carousel.

  I reach to the bottle with water that sits on my nightstand, take a gulp, and splash some over my face. My throat is parched. I take another gulp. This water tastes like ambrosia, not that I know what ambrosia tastes like, but this water tastes like heaven, sweet, clear, and fresh.

  My legs feel as if they’re not connected to my body. I lean forward to get my center of gravity above my feet and push off the bed. I change my weight from one leg to the other, pressing down into the floor as hard as I can. Then I take a deep breath and walk on the spot. I hold on to the bed and stretch my legs doing lunges.

  With every step, I have more and more control over the body. It’s no problem to walk over to the basin and I splash more water on my face. The mirror tells me I look like a ghost with enormous raccoon-like rings under my eyes. How long have I been here? I bet it’s more than just one day.

  Bastards. We all underestimated them. But not anymore!

  I’m looking for my clothes but I can’t find any. The hospital gown I’m wearing will have to do. The sideboard on the wall has a box of medical supplies with plasters, bandages, syringes, and scissors. I take the scissors and stick the plaster into my pocket and wrap a bandage around my midriff to hold the sides of the nightgown together. I don’t need to expose my womanly bits and pieces trying to flee.

  There is no try. You either do or you don’t.

  Amadeus? I need you! Now I know for sure that I will escape. First, though, I need to get Scottie and then we run. It is that simple. No rocket science, really.

  Everything is quiet when I open the door. There is not a single sound. No bells, no phones, no people, no nothing. This isn’t a real hospital. It’s a bit scary that I don’t know the lay of the land here, but I can’t change that. I’m prepared as best as I can. I close the door behind me. To my right is a long corridor with lots of doors leading to more rooms. To my left is the end of the corridor. A blessing for small mercies, I don’t have to look for the right way, as there is only one way to go.

  The hallway doesn’t remind me of a hospital at all. It reminds me of a schoolhouse with classrooms on one side and a row of windows on the other side that point towards the bush. It even smells like a schoolhouse from of cheap cleaning material for the floors, chalk, stuffy books, and sweaty gym clothes.

  It’s strange that they left me without somebody watching. That means they must believe whatever they injected was powerful enough to keep me sedated. The fact they haven’t given me another injection means that they want me to wake up. I might not have much time until they come looking for me. I have to act quickly.

  My first task is to find Scottie. What I’m going to do with him if he i
s still unconscious, I don’t know. I know one thing. I can’t leave him here. It’s not safe for either of us. These people are as crazy as bat shit.

  I pass one door after the other named preparation room number ONE all the way up to number SIX. I tried each door but they were all locked. Whatever preparation room means, I’m not going to find out now. Then there is an ECG room, a therapy room, and a gym. I try the therapy room. It’s locked.

  Suddenly I hear voices are coming in my direction. My heart beats right up in my throat. Where can I hide? There is one room left and then it’s the end of the hallway. Further ahead is the door to the outside and that’s it.

  The next door is open. I can’t believe my luck and slip in. It seems to be an office. Not a very large one, but it has a large desk with a modern Apple computer. Bookshelves cover the three-yard long sidewall, and along the opposite wall is a coffee table with two comfortable chairs and a large plant. Above them on the wall is a large-scale map of Gateways.

  I stand behind the door listening to the people approaching. Short of panicking, I’m looking around for a place to hide but there is nothing here, except crawling under the office desk. Through the keyhole I see two middle-aged men and two women bringing in equipment that looks like it’s destined for the gym.

  By the time the people reach the office, my anxiety peaks but goes down again the moment they walk past. Never have I felt more relieved as now. I leave my refuge behind the door and study the map on the wall. Where would be the logical place to find Scottie? I’ve identified the building I’m in, but the rest is confusing. So many buildings to remember.

  Perhaps there’s a copy of the map is on the computer? I take a seat at the desk and fire up the MacBook. My enthusiasm gets a damping when the screen is asking for the password. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  I try ‘Gateway’ and ‘Sebastian’. Raymond Feldman is just the kind of guy who would be conceited enough to use such easy names. I don’t think he ever expects someone to come uninvited into his office.

  After trying several combinations, I admit I’m wrong. I’m short of giving up when I see a sticker with a number and letter combination on the side of the computer screen. I punch the combination in and can’t believe it works. I don’t have the nerve to search through the files. I click on the document folder and back it up to my personal Google drive. One document called Gateway Stakeholders Report catches my interest.

  I open it and my breath hitches. This would be all the police need to shut this whole organization down. I search for the email of the police station in Wellington and send the file through with a brief note from me addressed to Officer Burke, who’d been so helpful during my trial.

  When I close the computer my head explodes in pain.

  Everything goes black.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ama: 24 March 2017, Gateway

  Raymond has his hands around Lilly’s throat and his eyes look wild as if he’s going to explode at any moment. She’s gone, of course. The blow over the head has knocked her unconscious. I had to come back from the sanctuary and make sure everyone is safe. So did the kids. They are alarmed, to say the least, and I’ve ordered everyone back to the tree house. Nothing can come from willy-nilly-panicking.

  He doesn’t realize we’ve switched. I doubt he would even if we had a number girl prancing in front of him with a sign We have switched. He would probably think it’s a cheap party trick.

  He slams a contract onto the desk and shoves it in front of me to sign. He grabs my hair and pulls my head down to the papers.

  “Sign.”

  In no mood to hide my disgust, I stare at him. A quick lesson in manners would not go to waste, I guess. None of my children would get away with behavior like this.

  “This is no way to treat a woman. I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from rough-handling me. Didn’t your mother teach you that a little courtesy goes a long way?”

  Now, that was the wrong thing to say, obviously, because he pulls my hair again and it hurts like hell. His eyes turn steely and his voice takes on the menacing, evil tone.

  “Now listen, and listen carefully. You will sign this. We are not playing games. If you don’t sign … well … you don’t want to find out. Get what I’m saying?”

  He pulls my chin up so I have to look at him and to be honest, I don’t like what I’m seeing. Then he wraps his hands around my throat and squeezes.

  It’s amazing what you think when you are at the end of the road. He has long, fine fingers with long nails that thrust into my throat. But even with such feminine hands, he has enough strength to close off my air supply. I try to kick him as black dots appear in my vision. I kicked harder until he drops his hands and steps away. I’m panting for air and rub my throat.

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Are you really that stupid? I want your signature.”

  He slaps my face hard and my head flings to the side.

  I could let him go on all day, but I rather not. In the end, I give him my signature. I doubt it would hold up in court when it came to a confrontation. Ama Seagar doesn’t exist in any register and my signature is nothing like Elise or Lilly’s.

  He leans down and his hot breath is revolting when whispers into my ear, “I will not have you ruin everything I’ve worked for.” He spits the words at me and a spray of saliva hits my cheek. “I will teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

  He’s hurting me and is getting off on it. Without warning, he pulls me up by my hair. Why always the hair? He pushes me across the room until my back is hitting the wall. He grabs my throat with one hand and pins me against the cold wall. I close my eyes and make sure everyone is safely locked up in the tree house. This is not a situation I want the children to be conscious of.

  “If you want your precious Scott to survive the day, you sign the contract.”

  He gloats at me and I don’t resist any longer but slack like a puppet on the string where the puppet master has cut the strings.

  He’s surprised. I’m sure for a moment he doesn’t know what’s going on.

  “I sign.”

  “I knew you would. Wise move.” He shoves the paper in front of me and watches me sign. He then opens the door and signals two men in white hospital uniforms. “Get her upstairs together with the man.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Elise/Lilly: 24 March 2017, Gateway

  From all the ways of taking control of the body, being shocked into it is the most disorienting one. In the past, I never knew what happened, where I was, how I got there, and what was expected of me. Since we’ve worked on our integration, that has become much easier. Nowadays it’s more like a handing-over briefing from the day shift to the night shift. I kind of know what happened. I have a fuzzy idea and as the minutes pass, the picture becomes clearer.

  Raymond had caught us. I remember. Two of his minions are pushing me into a white room. They covered the floor and walls in shiny, white tiles. I stumble, blinded by searchlights glaring down from the ceiling. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. There is not a single piece of furniture in the room. Only a row of large metal rings attached to three of the walls. They tied a lifeless, mangled body of a man to one ring on the wall opposite the door.

  “Scott!”

  I cry out in agony. Pain sears through me. My heart misses a beat. He doesn’t move. For a moment my mind goes offline, disconnects and leaves only my reptilian brain to keep this body alive, by breathing and having my heart pump blood through my veins. I pray for the merciful arms of unconsciousness to take me away. But …

  “Not now. You are stronger than giving up.”

  “Ah, Sky. You’ve returned.”

  “We all have and always will when you need us.”

  I feel already stronger and want to run to Scott but one of my guards forces a sharp object into my back. I cry out in pain and tumble toward the wall. Then he shoves me to the floor, just like Scott, and first ties my hands
at my back with a rope and then to a metal ring. As if we are cattle.

  “Sit and shut up.”

  I glance over to Scott. I can’t tell if he’s still alive. Rivulets of dried blood had turned his face into a macabre landscape with cuts and bruises. His right eye is swollen closed and turning reddish-purple. The promised freedom looks ever more out of reach now. Raymond lied to me and, I’m not surprised.

  Raymond comes into the room, walks up to Scott, and kicks him. I can’t tell whether he is satisfied or frustrated that Scott doesn’t react. He pulls his face into a maniacal grin.

  “He’s had enough, I guess.”

  The man must have gotten his ideas from all the cheap spy and action movies where torture is the done thing to get important secrets out of the victim. What does he want from us? We don’t have any more secrets. He knows all that’s worth knowing about us. Ama has signed the contract.

  “We’ve signed the contract, why aren’t we free?”

  “You think you were clever breaking into the office, do you? Signing with the wrong name. You will sit here until you sign the contract. After that, you’ll be free to crawl into whatever hole you choose to crawl into.”

  “You want me to believe that you’ll let us live? Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “It was never about the sales contract for our house. You can’t fool me.”

  “Aren’t we clever? What’s it about then?”

  “I will find out. Don’t you worry.”

  He smirks at me. “I never expected you to come to Gateways unless under force. And yes, you will live. Not in New Zealand, mind you, but in Shanghai. There are lots of people interested in women like you. It’ll make excellent entertainment. You’ll love it.”

  Scott’s head flies up, and he pulls on his rope. I’m glad Raymond is so focused on me he doesn’t notice Scott’s movements. He’s alive. I’m so relieved.