by Debra Webb
“Of the four who are still alive, are they like you?”
She laughed. “You mean totally fucked-up? Reclusive? Tortured? Alone?”
He nodded. Damn. It sounded way worse when she said it out loud.
“Two are workaholics. They’re alone but they’re extremely successful. The other one is more reclusive than me. She lives in her mother’s basement. I expect her to be the next to...” She stuck her finger to her head in the universal gesture of pulling a trigger.
Tony lowered onto the couch. No matter that the other women survived—they weren’t able to keep living.
He didn’t want Tiffany to be haunted that way for the rest of her life.
Yet, he was powerless to stop it.
27
Angie paced the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. The people in the room under theirs were likely wondering what was going on, but Angie didn’t care. She didn’t have the energy to care. If Joanna was right—she stalled midstep and closed her eyes. Please don’t let her be right.
“We have to focus on the end result,” Steve said.
Angie opened her eyes and glared at him. He sat on the end of the bed in his boxers. He’d come straight to the room and readied for bed. How could he do that after all the woman said? “What does that mean?”
Her husband scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Joanna survived. Even if Tif has to play those awful games, even if she gets hurt, isn’t finding her alive what really matters?”
Angie hugged her arms around herself. “Of course.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t bear the idea of her going through those awful things. You heard what she said. They starve them, make them fight. Oh God.” She started to pace again. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this.”
All those reporters, all those people at the press conference, all the police. The lights, the questions—it was all too much. Flyers about the missing girls had been plastered all over Milledgeville and the surrounding communities. Their faces were all over the news. Still, she and the other girl’s mother had stood in front of those cameras and given their statements. Pointless, the entire exercise had been utterly pointless. She’d torn her heart from her chest and laid it out for all to see and nothing had changed. No one who really knew anything had called the hotlines. The police were no closer to finding Tif and the other girl than they were this time yesterday.
Those people at the press conference—the ones at home watching on their televisions—they didn’t really care; they only wanted to be entertained by someone else’s tragedy. How much longer could she and Steve pretend that everything was going to be okay?
“If we lose her...” Angie couldn’t stay the rest.
Steve stood. “I need to shower.”
He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Angie stared after him. How could he not see that hope was waning? She thought of all the things Joanna had said. Their little girl could very well be going through those things—or worse. She could have been raped already; she could be dying at this very moment.
The agony rose so swiftly and so sharply that Angie swayed. She moaned. Everyone was trying to help, including Tony and Joanna. All she could do was complain. All she could do was make her husband miserable.
If she had been a better mother perhaps Tiffany wouldn’t have been lured by the charm of that bastard. If she had done a better job teaching her to protect herself...
Angie stared at the closed bathroom door. If she were a better wife, she would not allow her pain to be all that mattered.
She rushed to the door and opened it. Steve stood beneath the spray of water, his whole body shuddering with his sobs. Water splashed on the floor where he’d forgotten to close the curtain.
Angie went to him. Clothes and all she climbed into the shower and held him, told him how very much she loved him. Assured him over and over that they would find their daughter.
They cried together. They would get through this. Somehow.
28
Tiffany picked herself up from the floor and swiped the blood from her lips. Her nose was pouring.
She couldn’t see Lexy. They’d turned the lights out today. In the box and in here, the place they had to perform.
It was so damned dark.
She could hear Lexy breathing.
Tiffany worked hard to keep her breathing quiet. She moved around the room, hoping she didn’t hit a wall or something else she hadn’t encountered during this battle. The sound of Lexy’s breathing was louder now. She was close.
Hold your breath.
If she could just get close enough to grab her.
A scream split the darkness.
Lexy’s body slammed into Tiffany.
They hit the floor. Rolled.
Tiffany grabbed her hair and pounded her head against the floor.
Lexy punched her hard in the stomach. Tried to get a jab at her chin. By sheer luck Tiffany dodged.
She pounded Lexy’s head into the floor a couple more times, and then punched her, aiming for her face but hitting her in the throat instead.
Lexy gagged and shoved her hard.
Tiffany landed on her back against the hard floor. She gulped in air, trying to feed her starving lungs.
Lexy coughed, choked and heaved.
Tiffany started to reach for her but stopped herself. Instead she scooted away and prepared to launch into battle again.
Lexy retched and puked.
Please let him call it.
Maybe... Tiffany moved toward the sound of her puking. She kicked her in the stomach, not hard at all but enough to make her grunt.
More puking and gagging.
“Back to your corners,” the voice said.
Thank God. Tiffany moved to her right. She felt along the wall until she found the corner. Lexy was still coughing and gagging.
The door opened. She heard it. Couldn’t see it.
“The loser leaves first.”
Lexy’s heavy breathing grew fainter and fainter until she was gone.
“The winner takes the spoils.”
Tiffany felt her way to the door. She smelled the food before she found it with her hands. It was warm. The plastic plate was full. She picked it up and moved carefully along the short, narrow corridor that was just as dark as the other rooms. She held on to the plate terrified that she would drop it.
Once she was back in the white room that was now as black as pitch with the others, she moved to each of them, giving them part of the food on the plate, then she found her corner and she sat down to eat.
She closed her eyes and prayed she could do this again tomorrow. He’d started making them fight two and three times a day. She was so, so tired.
“You faked that last kick.”
Tiffany jumped. Lexy was suddenly right next to her, whispering in her ear.
“Don’t be stupid, bitch,” Lexy muttered. “I won’t do the same for you.”
Tiffany bit off a piece of bread and didn’t say anything. If she did she might just cry and she damn sure wasn’t going to cry for this mean bitch.
She felt Lexy move away.
Tiffany didn’t even taste the food. She ate. It was essential to survival.
Did anything else matter at this point?
29
Day Four
Eighteen years ago...
Ellen and No-Name are missing.
I woke up and they are gone. He must be using something to put us to sleep. My whole face hurts like a bitch. My nose and eyes are swollen. No-Name beat the shit out of me.
Next time I’ll do better. I wasn’t prepared yesterday.
But I will be ready next time.
I don’t want to hurt anyone but I don’t want to die.
I’m so hungry. And afraid. I’ve never liked the dark. That docto
r, Dr. Kato, said it was perfectly normal to have childhood fears spill over into adulthood.
No-Name isn’t afraid of anything.
I sure hope she doesn’t kill Ellen.
I honestly don’t see how we can keep doing this. My body shivers. My body. Strange. It feels almost separate from me. I guess the lack of light is messing with my head. I ache all over. I’m pretty sure nothing is broken but what do I know? I could have internal bleeding for all I know.
How long have they been gone?
For some reason I can no longer judge time. I don’t know if it’s been a minute or an hour or a day. I just want to go home. I don’t understand why the police can’t find us. Are they even looking?
My parents are probably so worried. Ray would be, too. He would be ready to kick the shit out of whoever did this. A smile tugs at my busted lip.
I close my eyes and go someplace else. I let my mind wander to the bedroom I’ve slept in my whole life. The pink walls and the big old bed with its white lacy canopy. The bed was secondhand but I never cared. I loved it then and I love it now. When I went home for Christmas I remember lying there thinking how even though I was a college girl I didn’t really feel any different.
I feel different now.
Please don’t let me die here, God. Please.
I must have drifted off. The smell of food wakes me. My stomach rumbles.
No-Name is eating. She sounds like a fucking pig, grunting and slopping.
Of course she doesn’t offer to share.
Where is Ellen?
I crawl all around the room, rove my hand over every square inch. “Where’s Ellen?”
“Dead maybe.”
Her words ignite something inside me. I feel ready to explode. Like hot lava rushing through my veins. I want to kill No-Name.
I lunge at the sound of her nasty lips smacking.
Her plastic plate clatters to the floor.
I am on top of her, my hands around her throat. “If she’s dead, you’re next.”
For all the times I sat in church and listened to the preacher warn about obeying the ten commandments—do not kill—I want to kill her. I want it so bad. When I finally release her, she gasps for air.
I scrape up her food and start to eat. Just let her try and take it from me.
She doesn’t dare. She doesn’t come anywhere near me.
I save some for Ellen. I refuse to believe she’s dead.
I close my eyes and picture her breathing, sitting right next to me.
I will not let her be dead.
30
Riverside Drive
Saturday, April 14, 9:00 a.m.
Barnett Griffin served as the head groundskeeper of Georgia’s Central State Hospital until 2013 when it officially shut down. Tony had promised his sister he would talk to the man. Griffin was eighty if he was a day but far from feeble. He informed Tony that he walked five miles every day and ate clean. No drinking, no smoking. He could be the poster boy for healthy living.
“It opened in 1842.” Griffin nodded. “A sad day in our history. ’Course I suppose it was a necessary evil. Taking care of the mentally ill was a learning process and Central State Hospital was part of the curve.
“Folks back then had good intentions, I suppose,” he went on, “Just not enough money or the right kinds of doctors. It was the biggest asylum in the country, you know. Sitting on about two thousand acres. Hundreds of buildings. Had around thirteen thousand patients at any given time. The things they did to patients.” He shook his head. “From lobotomies to forced sterilization, they did it all. Worst of all, they buried their dead in graves with nothing but old iron markers with numbers on them. Why, most folks bury their dogs better than that. God only knows who all’s buried out there. The state sure don’t have a clue. Makes it the perfect dumping ground, don’t you think?” He shrugged. “Shoot, a person could bury anything out there and no one would ever find it.”
Next to Tony, Joanna shifted. She had not wanted to come. They sat on the sofa in Griffin’s living room. Griffin sat in his easy chair facing the picture window. He claimed he never watched television or listened to the radio. He preferred the peace and quiet. His only social media was the newspaper.
The elderly man said, “Let me show you something.”
Griffin stood and led the way from the living room down a short side hall to a bedroom turned office of sorts. Images of deteriorating buildings, wooded grounds and sad-looking patients covered every square inch of wall on all four sides.
“These old buildings—” he gestured to the once-grand brick architecture that was now covered in vines with boarded-up windows and padlocked doors “—they all look deserted. They look good for nothing.” He directed their attention to another set of images. “These are surrounded by twelve-foot fences and the kind of wire you see around prisons. And that’s what they became. Some of the buildings were turned into prisons for a while back in the day.” He studied the grim images a moment. “Once the hospital shut down, they sent all the patients elsewhere, except a couple hundred mentally ill patients who were deemed too violent for prison. So they set up a forensic hospital out there. That’s where they keep the ones nobody else was willing to take.” He waved his arm around the room. “Most of the buildings look deserted and empty, like rotting corpses. But like a rotting corpse, you always got your flies and maggots and other critters who want to pluck the bones clean.”
Tony asked, “Are you saying there are still activities on the property?”
“Oh yeah. Pockets of all sorts of activities. Rumor has it that a security software company has some of their geniuses stashed out there. There’s a film group who has actually lured a couple of moviemakers to the area. But, the most interesting rumor I’ve heard is about a pharmaceutical company who tests drugs on participants—not necessarily volunteers is what I heard. And at least a couple of clinical studies on the mentally ill. You gotta believe me when I say there’s all sorts of things going on out there that nobody knows about. Security is as thick as fleas all over the place. There’s no gate so anybody who wants can go on the property but the security guards are always watching—24-7. With their cameras and their little electric cars buzzing around like bees. Lots of activity.”
“But you don’t have any proof these activities are actually going on,” Tony countered.
Griffin shook his head. “The production company has an office in the old administrator’s house. The software company and forensic hospital are legitimate operations. The others, no I can’t prove they exist but folks know there’s stuff going on out there. There’s always been bad things happening in that evil place.”
Tony moved closer to the images, studying each one. Joanna stayed near the door. He sensed her discomfort. Maybe this guy was crazy or paranoid or both, but Tony had a feeling there was some basis to his theories.
“What makes you so certain any of these rumors are true?” He turned back to their conspiracy theorist. “I’ve yet to visit a town with a deteriorating asylum who didn’t have lots of tales to tell.”
Griffin nodded. “I’m sure. But I worked there until five years ago when the state moved out the last of the noncriminal patients and closed the doors. I heard things. Got glimpses of things. I can give you a map. I’ll mark the spots I think might be hiding something. You can investigate at your own risk. Some of the buildings are falling in on themselves. Others are inhabited by squatters but they’re likely more scared of you than you would be of them. Then there’s the ghosts.”
Tony scanned the images again. He had to admit that the property posed the perfect setting for imprisoning victims. The kind of place no one would bother to look. Too dilapidated, surrounded by too much security. Some buildings were being torn down. “All the buildings are padlocked and marked no trespassing.”
“Yep. But people roam around out there all the t
ime. It’s a felony if you get caught in one of the buildings. For a while that didn’t stop people but they’ve cracked down lately. To tell you the truth, it’s a big tourist attraction. You can go anywhere you want but security will be watching. If you try to go into one of the buildings, they’ll show up.”
“Let’s have a look at that map.”
Griffin opened up the folded layers and spread across the desk a hand-drawn map. He circled what he called hot spots. “I’m pretty sure this is where you’ll find those software geniuses. Note the towering antenna and a couple of satellite dishes.” He touched another of his marked spots. “This is one of the prisons that came later. If I was operating a pharmaceutical trial, I would like the security offered by the fence and the steel wire on the windows. I’ve been in all these places—the ones I’ve marked—they’re in decent shape. It would be easy to whip them up to par for use on the inside and leave the outside looking abandoned.”
“The local police aren’t suspicious of the activities going on out there?” Tony supposed there was really no reason for them to be interested. The state owned the property. It was their jurisdiction. Their problem.
“Maybe there are legitimate licenses or what have you for these pockets of activity,” Griffin offered, “but that don’t mean they’re doing what the powers that be think they’re doing.”
“You were the head groundskeeper. Did you ever notice any new graves?”
He pointed to another spot on the map. “There’s more than twenty-five thousand patients buried right around in here. You can see the memorial they set up a few years back right here.” He pointed to another spot. “There’s a gazebo and a little arrangement of some of the markers that got moved from the original grave sites. The bodies were buried all around in this wooded area. You’ll stumble over the tops of markers if you’re not careful. The area is a big slope. Time and water rushing over the ground there have all but swallowed them up. All the pine trees keep plenty of needles covering the ground. Like I said before, it would be easy as hell to lose a body in there, and then just rake pine needles over the freshly turned dirt. No one would notice. You’ll see what I mean.”
