by Cat Connor
We went in different directions.
Thirty-Seven
Into The Void
I sat up slowly, unsure of my whereabouts. Swirling gray fog clouded my vision. My head hurt. It wasn’t an ache like a headache. It hurt. I avoided the bruised area and tentatively touched the fresh sore area at the back of my head. Wet. Sticky. My fingers caught in matted sticky hair.
“Ouch,” I muttered as I pulled my hand away from my head and saw strands of bloody hair wrapped around my fingers. “Not good.”
Blood.
Confusing. The last thing I remembered was walking out of the viewing room with Mitch. I moved my head with care and looked at my surroundings. Half-expecting to be on the ground amongst a pile of rubble. But I wasn’t.
I was in a room, a small clean windowless room. Clean. A faint but familiar smell lingered. Disinfectant. The air felt fresh yet there were no windows. I held up my hand and felt the airflow. Looking up hurt but I did it anyway. There was a vent high on the wall where cool air blew in. I shivered. No jacket.
Never mind no jacket. No boots, socks, jeans, or shirt. No holster, no gun, no cuffs.
Sitting on a floor, bleeding from a head wound, wearing only my underwear. There was no good explanation for that.
The floor felt odd under me. I pressed my hand onto it. Almost bouncy. Rubber? A rubber floor. Behind me was a bed. I reached out and levered myself up using the bed. Once upright, I noticed my phone sitting on a gray woolen blanket that covered the bed. I shivered again, picked up my phone and pulled the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around me. It felt prickly and itchy but it was better than freezing. Then I noticed I still had the pulse oximeter on my wrist and the sensor on my index finger. Someone took my clothes off but left that on me, or put it back on me. To what end? Someone left me my phone. That didn’t fit either.
The bed faced a door, about six feet away. No door handle on the inside and it looked odd, not wood or metal. I walked carefully to the door and touched it. A firm surface but like the floor, it felt rubbery. My hand reached out to the wall by the door. It was the same. A rubber room. A windowless, well-lit rubber room that lacked door handles. I noted the recessed lights in the ceiling. No light switches on the walls. I was in a cell. A special kind of cell. Purpose designed. Turning around, I saw metal rings in the wall on my right. Four metal rings. On closer inspection, I wished I hadn’t seen them. I didn’t want anything to do with their function. I staggered back to the bed and sat down. I had my phone. I pressed the button on the top and turned the screen on, then swiped my finger up the screen to unlock it. Scrolled left once and tapped Mitch’s image; a few seconds later, I heard Mitch’s voice.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Please …” The word hung in the air before shattering and falling like snowflakes to the ground. “Something bad is going to happen.”
“El?”
“Please, Mitch … find me.”
“We’re working on it. Sandra is tracing your phone. I’ll be there soon. Keep your phone on.”
“I’ll try.”
“There is no try. There is do or do not.”
“Mitch …”
I leaned on the wall behind me. I had no idea how I got there or where I was. Having my phone but no clothing was alarming. I looked at Mitch’s picture on the screen. Cold clawed at my insides.
“Mitch … it’s a trap.”
“That’s being considered, El.”
“Someone wants Delta A all fucked up.”
“It sure looks that way. Sit tight.” He paused. I knew what was coming. “Are you hurt?”
“Honestly, it’s hard for me to tell with much accuracy.” I didn’t want to say I was bleeding and almost naked. “I still have the pulse oximeter on. Kurt can monitor me.”
“He is. How do you feel?”
Vulnerable.
“Okay. I think. Bit of a headache.” I lay down. My words floated in the air all white and shiny. What’s that all about?
“We have a fix on your location, Sandra tracked the GPS on your phone,” Mitch said. “Anything we need to know?”
“I’m in a windowless room. It’s like a padded cell.” Or torture chamber. I just bet the room could be easily hosed out. Maybe that accounted for the smell of disinfectant.
Mitch talked to someone. A car started.
“We’re bringing SWAT,” Kurt said. He must’ve taken the phone from Mitch.
“Good. Where am I?”
“The abandoned factory,” Kurt said. “Where we found Alexandra.”
My eyes searched the room for something that said abandoned, dank, wet, cruddy factory. It didn’t fit with what I saw.
“This isn’t the old factory,” I replied.
“GPS puts you in the center of the factory,” Kurt said. “Could you be in the center of a building?”
Panic rose. I didn’t need the gadget on my wrist to tell me my pulse rate was climbing.
“I could be.”
“Breathe. We’re coming.”
It was all wrong.
“Not the factory. I’m sure this is not the factory.”
“Conway, calm down. We’re almost there.”
“Give me Mitch.”
I closed my eyes and recreated the room in my head, complete with metal rings in the wall and me almost naked. While I concentrated on the scene in my mind, I said, “Mitch, can you see it?”
“God, yes.” His voice cracked a little. “A padded cell. What’s with the rings in the wall? Where are your clothes?”
“I don’t know.”
I listened as he tried to tell Kurt they were at the wrong place. They weren’t in the car anymore, there was too much atmospheric noise. I couldn’t hear exactly what was happening. A cacophony of raised voices let loose. I held the phone in front of me and flipped it over then back, activating the speaker. A loud explosion took me by surprise. I almost dropped the phone.
“Mitch?” I said to the phone.
“I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“SWAT breached the outer doors. There was an explosion. Did you hear anything where you are?”
“No.” With more determination I said, “I’m not in the factory. Injuries?”
“Four men down,” Mitch replied. He paused. I could sense his mind working. “If you’re not here then where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
He was walking, I could tell by his voice. “Trudi and Susan’s phones had bugs or viruses in them, yes?”
“Yeah.” I almost nodded before reminding myself not to.
“Same thing could have happened to yours. Anything updated recently?”
“I think Instagram and Voxer updated over the last day or so,” I replied. “I’m taking the battery out now. I hope you can find me.”
“I will find you. I’m coming.” A car door shut and an engine started.
It was possible that whoever added the program to Trudi and Susan’s phones altering their GPS location could’ve done the same to mine. My cell number was on my cards. Lots of people had it.
Knowing Mitch was trying to find me made me feel a little better. Hoping he did know where to look, not so much. Hope and faith went together. I was all out of faith in any kind of Supreme Being. Mitch’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Have faith in me.”
I swiped the phone screen and held my finger on the Voxer icon until all the icons wobbled. A small cross appeared next to the icons. I touched the cross on the Voxer app and deleted it then did the same with Instagram and Facebook, just in case. I turned the phone off, then on again. As it started up a list of available WiFi connections appeared. I scanned the list. They were all locked. The fourth one on the list interested me. The signal was weak but it gave me a general vicinity.
I rang Mitch back.
“I’m somewhere near Inova Fairfax.”
“El, how close?”
“Close enough that I can see the Emergency Department WiFi
signal, it’s weak but it’s visible.”
“I’m coming.”
I hung up and removed the back of my phone and took out the battery. Deleting the apps I thought were sending coordinates wasn’t enough, I had to be sure nothing else was sent from my phone. All I could do was hope I’d removed the battery before another set of coordinates could be sent. It occurred to me that if that were the bomber’s game, then it would go on until he or she won. I was the bait and under no illusion what my fate entailed. Someone would not go to this much trouble to kill Delta A and let me walk away. I set it on the mattress then snapped the back on the phone again. It felt very lonely without a functional phone.
Whoever did this genuinely wanted us dead but didn’t want to confront any of us in the process. Coward? Or was it all part of an end game we didn’t know about yet? I heard Mitch’s voice in my head again. He told me he’d be there soon.
On his own? I didn’t know.
Who from SWAT was injured?
No idea.
Was there a trap here?
No idea.
I needed to concentrate on what I did know. I was alive. That I knew. I was still dangerous despite my lack of clothing and weapon. Something felt odd, inside me. Why would there be anything inside me? Nausea washed through me. Oh my God. That’s what felt wrong. A badly positioned tampon. God no!
Not wanting to know but needing to know, I felt inside my panties and sure enough, I found a string. With care, I felt for the end of the tampon; it wasn’t fully inserted which was why I could feel it. I grasped the tampon with my fingers and extracted it. Holding it carefully, I examined it. It looked perfectly normal. Using my fingernails, I dug into the cotton and found an orange core. Semtex?
A noise outside the door. I stuffed the tampon down between the wall and the mattress.
My innards froze. It wasn’t Mitch’s voice. Two men. I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes.
Focus. I needed my hands. One of them had the bloody annoying sensor on it. Knowing I should keep it on didn’t worry me as much as not being able to fully use my hands. I undid the sensor and dropped it on the bed.
The voices were close to the door. I dropped the blanket onto the bed and moved to the right side of the door, with no idea if it was the hinge side or not – hard to tell without a door handle. If it were a cell, the door would open outward not inward.
My ribs hurt and so did my head; hair stuck to my back.
The door moved. I knew straight away that I was on the handle side. Whoever it was would be within my reach. I took a deep breath. A shadow fell across the floor before a shoe came into view. Male. He walked in, his head turned away from me, talking to the other male behind him and carrying a shallow box. I kicked his kneecap backward while I lashed out with my arm, chopping him across the larynx with the side of my hand. He tumbled and the box and its contents flew across the floor. Surprised, the man clutched his throat and made weird noises. The other male pushed him out of the way and made a grab for me. I ducked, kicked the first male in the throat with my heel, then jumped over him, glancing at his face. Gasping and gurgling, he didn’t sound as if he would be much of a problem. The second, bigger, male lunged. Over reached … and staggered. I elbowed him in the side of the head. He reeled but came back.
“A fighter,” he growled and shook his head. “This will be fun.”
“Not feeling in a fun mood.” I sucked up all the pain I felt and turned it into an escape plan.
“You’re hurt,” he countered.
“Yep, but you’re dead,” I replied.
I saw a knife in a sheath on his belt. He swung at me with a closed fist. I stepped into the swing, diminishing the power of the punch. He connected with my shoulder, I staggered a bit but now I was inside his reach. I ducked and slid around him. He didn’t expect that. While he tried to grab hold of me, I pulled the knife from the sheath. Before he could react, from behind I shoved the blade in between his ribs, through his heart, and twisted. It hurt my arm but fuck him. I pulled the knife out of his back and jammed it in again. Blood cascaded onto the floor. I shoved my knee in his back and pushed. He fell forward with the blade stuck in his back.
Good thing the room was washable.
The other guy gurgled on the floor holding his throat. I doubted that would help. I could see it swelling.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, running feet moving toward the room, then they stopped, and went back. The door was still open. I stepped carefully around the dead and the dying to grab my cell phone and the blanket. I saw what was in the box scattered on the floor. Tampons still inside the cellophane wrappers. Maybe they didn’t know I was already wearing one. Four sets of handcuffs. Several different types of knives. Wrapping the blanket around me, I put the battery back in the phone and called Mitch.
I listened by the door for the familiar sound of his phone. All I heard were footsteps walking away. “Where are you?”
“In a corridor, the west wing of an old psychiatric hospital within a half mile of Inova.”
That felt too far away. Could I pick up a WiFi signal from a half mile away? Maybe.
“I don’t know if that’s where I am, there are other people here. I can hear footsteps. I just killed one guy and another is dying. I’m leaving this room now.”
“I’d like you to wait for me?”
“I know, but I’m a sitting duck here.”
A little yellow duck popped out from under the dead body and shook bright red blood off its feathers then sat down.
“I’m trying to find you.”
“I know. I have to go. I’ll find a way out. Don’t be in here. Let me come to you.” I didn’t even know if we were both in the same place. But an old hospital might be about right. Except the room I was in didn’t look old.
“Three little words.”
“Me too.”
The call ended and I tucked the phone into my bra.
I needed to move before the footsteps came back this way. I searched the almost dead guy. He had a pistol. A SIG p226. I clicked the safety off and held it inside the blanket in my right hand.
I peered out the door, looking right then around the open door to the left. No one around. I opted to move in the same direction as I’d heard the footsteps, which had come and gone the same way. As I walked down the dimly lit corridor, I passed more doors. Numbered. The numbers decreased as I walked. I hoped that meant I was going toward an exit of some kind.
Being out in the open concerned me but less so than what could’ve happened to me back in the room. Those men weren’t there for the good of my health. Or apparently theirs. The thought made me smile. Will people ever learn to stop fucking with me?
Nope.
A door closed somewhere ahead of me. A little yellow duck quacked and sat down by my feet. I leaned my back against the wall and waited for a moment. Footsteps. I held my breath. The steps faltered. Paused. Turned. Moved away. The duck vanished.
Relieved, I let out a sigh and continued. Around the corner was a double glass door. Through it, I saw an exit sign and elevators. The number, clearly visible on the floor display next to the down arrow, dropped to three and the doors opened.
Crap.
The man didn’t look straight ahead. He looked left as if he was expecting someone to be there. I darted back around the corner and waited.
My heart pounded, it was hard to breathe. I wondered if maybe I should have left the oximeter on but it wouldn’t do me any good watching my stats fall. I couldn’t fix whatever was wrong. I had to get out of wherever I was. I looked around the corner. The man had gone.
I pulled one glass door open and looked into the new corridor. No one.
Decision time. Elevator or stairs?
Stairs. I didn’t know who might be waiting at the bottom of the elevator. At least with the stairs I could maybe make it back to another floor if I had to. I knew by the elevator display that I was on the third floor. I drew in a breath. Disinfectant. Hospital smells.
Not disused, abandoned hospital smells but current ones.
What if it was an operational hospital? A private facility?
In the stairwell, I called Mitch back. I carefully walked down the stairs.
“Mitch, this isn’t an old disused hospital. The elevators are working and modern. The place is not falling apart. It’s still operational. I could be in a private hospital … ask Kurt about private facilities that care for mentally ill patients near Inova.”
“I’ll get back to you. You all right?”
“Just trying to find a way out.”
Not all right but I will be, as soon as I get out of here.
I put the phone back in my bra. I passed the second floor landing and kept on going. Even with dodgy breathing, I reached the first floor landing in record time and then the ground floor. I listened for any noise beyond the door.
Steeling myself, I gave the door, a fire door, a good shove and peered out the gap. No one around. I opened the door further. There were large potted plants by a big plate-glass window. The gray-tinged sky beyond told me it was early morning. I could see a main door. To the right of the door was a reception desk. No one there. I needed to get out the main doors. Unsure if I could run, I heard Mitch in my head telling me I could run. I ran all the time. We both did. We ran three times a week if not more, when time and jobs allowed. All I had to do now was run to the door, open it and run across the parking lot of whatever was out there.
Somewhere beside me, an elevator dinged.
It’s now or never.
I didn’t look toward the elevator as I ran. I just gathered the blanket closer and kept on going, shoving the door wide as I plowed through. My ribs and lungs complained loudly. I growled at them. No time for collapsing lungs now.
One foot in front of the other, that’s all. Just one foot in front of the other.
I ran across the black top, across grass, across a six-lane road to a wire fence, jumped over the fence and walked into the woods wrapping the blanket tighter against the morning chill. Once in the woods I stopped. Looking back at the road, I knew where I was: Gallows Road. I pulled my phone and called Mitch.
It was harder to talk than I realized and took several attempts before my voice broke free. “Meet me at Exxon Mobil on Gallows Road. I’ll be by the front entrance to the main building. Drive in.”
