by Kate Breuer
“What do you mean? We need to get her out now!” Liz is unable to tear her gaze from the screen.
“We can’t. It’s too risky.”
“We have to. Tell us everything you know, please. We’ll come up with a plan to get her out.” Liz looks at me and Zeke pleadingly. Both of us nod our agreement.
“I don’t have access to the hospital video feeds, but here’s what I know.” Susan turns her back to the screen. She plays with a loose thread on her skirt.
“She broke in with three friends—two men and a woman. They went into the blood storage rooms. During her interrogation, she claimed she wanted to steal a friend’s blood sample to hush up that she gave her friend some of her prescription. We know that’s not true because she’s not on any dose of the medicine. It can’t have helped—”
“Why is she on no dose? Then what was in her water?” I interrupt her again.
“She doesn’t need the prescription. She’s been given an addictive herbal placebo instead to ensure she keeps taking her medication. People can’t suspect there are people off the medicine.”
“More people aren’t taking it?” Zeke asks.
Susan laughs. She eyes me curiously, then looks back down at her skirt. “Anyway. We think she wanted to swap her daughter’s blood sample. Her daughter had perfect results in the five-year exam. They were supposed to bring her back for additional testing so my father could confirm the results. I’m not supposed to know about any of this, but I heard our fathers talking.”
I grunt. I knew my father would be involved in this somehow.
“And I have no clue how she found out, but she must have known. They are questioning her to find out what else she knows and who she told.” Susan lowers her voice. “I think they’ll kill everyone who might have known.”
I already knew the stakes were high. Hearing Susan say it out loud makes everything worse.
“You should get out of here now. Before the morning shift shows up,” Susan continues. “I’ll come by your house tomorrow, Nate.”
On the way back, Liz clicks at the hallway computer for a few moments. “Done, we were never here.”
It’s too much to take in at once. None of us say a word as we sneak back out. We follow Susan’s instructions, and she’s able to get us out quickly without incident.
The image of Chase’s broken body sleeping in the chair haunts me. It keeps me up hours after Zeke and Liz have gone home. We need to help her. She’ll die if we don’t.
19
Chase
My body is cold from sweat, and every cell seems to ache. Something soft is covering my body, and I can feel someone in the room with me. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to see who’s out there. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, I’ll be left alone a little longer.
Unfortunately, the more I try to remain still, the more my body wants to move. My eyes flutter open. Halos blur my vision for a moment before I blink them away and focus on my surroundings.
Susan is sitting across from me on the stool with a worried look on her face. I have never been so grateful to see someone. I was sure it would be Drake and Lompoc ready to continue their interrogation. I’m not sure I can bear any more pain right now.
“How do you feel?” she asks in a soft voice.
“I don’t know.” My voice is rough and raspy.
Susan stands up and walks over. I recoil a little before I can stop myself. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I’m ashamed she saw my involuntary reaction, my sign of weakness. With a conscious effort, I relax as much as I can. Susan is not here to hurt me. She warned me yesterday. If anyone found out, she’d probably be in trouble—unless this is part of a bigger plan.
What if she’s trying to trick me into trusting her? If she is, the whole good cop/bad cop thing is really working on me.
She’s probably the one who covered me. I look down at the blanket and am thankful for the cover and warmth it provides, and that pushes away my doubts.
“Is it okay if I clean up your face?”
I nod and watch Susan as she fills a bowl with water and walks back over. Did she turn the water back on? The water in the bowl is cold, and I wince when the sponge touches me. It soothes my swollen face.
“Better,” she declares. “There are fresh clothes in the bathroom. They’re mine, so I’m not sure they’ll fit properly, but it’s the best I could do.”
Gratitude fills me as I limp into the bathroom. The attacks have left my muscles sore and strained. I close the door behind me and relish in the moment of unwatched solitude.
I look at myself in the small mirror over the sink and gasp. My left eye is swollen shut, and my cheek is split open. Despite Susan’s efforts, it looks bloody and gross. I felt the wounds earlier, but seeing them makes them hurt more.
I quickly turn away from the mirror and find the stack of clothes on the floor. They smell flowery and are made of a softer fabric than I have ever seen at work—let alone ever worn.
I peel my shirt off and carefully use the few clean spaces to scrub at the dried blood on my body. The soft, gray pants are a little long but fit comfortably. The pink jacket is warm and cozy, and I am thankful for the long sleeves. I want to hide as much of my body as possible in case the men return.
Susan is waiting in the main room when I finally get over my reluctance to return.
“Thank you,” I say, hoping I’ve conveyed how grateful I really am. I stand there, unsure what to do next.
Susan doesn’t answer at first. She adjusts and readjusts her skirt, then says, “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I mean, I’m sorry for what I did to you.” She takes a deep breath. “Please understand. They forced me. I didn’t have a choice. I tried sending weaker impulses, but they caught me.” Her voice is thick. “I—I think I made it worse.”
I feel a perverse urge to comfort her. I take a step closer but think better of it and instead continue to look at her.
“I’m s—sorry I couldn’t protect you from—from what they did.” Her shoulders are heaving. When she finally looks up at me, I can see her eyes glistening with tears.
“Thank you,” I repeat, still unable to think of anything else to say. I decide I have to trust the woman. She might be my best—my only—chance out of here.
I don’t want to go back to the chair where it happened, so I slide down to the floor and lean against the wall. I try and position myself to keep the chair out of my line of sight. The memories of what happened hurt my soul more than my body.
“What will happen to me?” I hate how weak I sound. I’m helpless, and I hate that, too.
“I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” Susan’s voice is suddenly stern, and when she steps closer to me, I recoil.
“Wait. Listen,” Susan mouths as she sits on the floor across from me. I glance at the woman, then stare out the window to get my ear as close to her as possible.
“I don’t know what their plan is, but we won’t let it happen,” she continues, her voice barely audible. “We have a plan. Stay strong a little longer, and we’ll get you out. I hope they won’t question you today. But if they do, you need to be brave. Don’t tell them what they want to hear, okay?”
I nod once.
“Do you think you can be convincing if I disable the impulses?”
I nod again but hope they won’t test my ability to pretend. I don’t want to put Susan in danger for trying to help me.
“I need to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay strong, Chase.” She hands me the blanket from the chair. With a last glance at me, she hurries out of the room.
I continue to stare outside, unable to move, long after Susan is gone. My mind forces me to relive the events of the previous day. In an effort to drown it out, I trace the outline of the city with my eyes, counting the buildings, then the windows. I can’t allow my brain to stop.
I’m up to three hundred windows, but the click of the lock makes me look around. I see Lompoc ent
er, and I press myself into the wall.
“Good morning. You look beautiful today,” he teases. He scans me up and down. “I see someone pitied you with new clothes. What a waste.”
There is an evil glee in the man’s dark eyes. I shuffle out of the way until I’m pressed into the corner next to the bathroom door. He laughs, which makes goosebumps erupt all over my body. He takes a step in my direction. I feel too vulnerable on the floor. I stand up and continue to press my back against the wall, forcing myself to look directly into his eyes.
“Leave me alone!” I shout at him with the last bit of defiance in my body.
The man just smiles at me. “Someone’s feeling bold today? Go on, yell at me. It’ll make this more fun.”
He takes another step toward me, a grin on his face. Then another. His body is nearly touching mine. I try to get farther away, but there is nowhere to go.
He grabs both my wrists and presses them onto the wall above my head. I struggle against his grasp but to no avail. All I want is for him to go away. Escape isn’t an option. I need to fight back.
I press into his grip and kick my knee up between his legs. He gasps and jumps back, holding his groin. Hurting him gives me a satisfying pleasure.
“You’ll regret that,” he wheezes.
I lunge to the side, but Lompoc wraps an arm around my middle and throws me down, knocking the breath out of me. The floor underneath me is cold as ice.
He gets my wrists above my head again and holds them with one hand. He straddles his knees over my hips and pins me down. I kick my legs, but they flow uselessly behind him. He lowers his face over mine. I feel his breath on my bruised cheek and try to roll away.
I am helpless, and he enjoys it. His laugh is like another slap in the face.
“I’ll show you who’s in charge here. I’ll let you know the only thing you are good for.”
Lompoc caresses my unbruised cheek with one finger and glides it along my face, down my neck, and toward my chest. He pulls the zipper of my jacket down and reveals my bare body. He places his hand on my breast, and the hungry look in his eyes makes me burst into panic.
I push and kick and wiggle until I finally manage to throw him off balance. He falls to the floor with a loud thud and immediately reaches for me. He puts his arms around me and pulls me onto himself. I can feel his swollen groin against my back.
I slam my head back and catch his jaw. He loosens his grip, and I manage to free myself once more. Before he can reach me again, I dash into the small bathroom and shut the door. I turn the lock and back into the far wall, closing my jacket around me. The doorknob rattles as he tries to push it open.
“Open up, you bitch! I’ll get you anyway!”
Boom.
He must be throwing himself against the door. It won’t hold for long. I run and brace myself against it to add another layer of protection. The door vibrates with each hit and kick. I can hear his frustrated grunts.
Boom.
“Open the door, you useless little bitch!”
Boom.
Suddenly, there is silence. Not knowing what’s happening scares me more than hearing him struggle against the door. My heart is racing, and my breath refuses to slow. This has to be a trick. My body never relaxes as I wait for his next attempt.
A few long minutes later, a soft knock comes from the door. “Chase,” Susan whispers. “It’s me. You can come out now. You’re safe.”
I open the door enough to peek through. Susan stands right outside, horror-struck. The room behind her is empty. Slowly, I step outside. I keep my arms wrapped tightly around my middle and check all the corners in the room to make sure no one is hiding.
“Where’s the asshole?” I spit.
“You did one hell of a job at defending yourself. He’s pissed. As soon as I saw what was going on, I called for help. He wasn’t supposed to be here—went against orders. He won’t be coming back.”
I sigh but don’t dare relax completely. I’m not safe—only a little safer. There’s still Drake. I look down at the pants Susan gave me hours ago and see they are already torn at one knee and covered in blood.
Susan follows my gaze. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.” She reaches out but seems to think better of it. She lets her hand fall back to her side.
I am thankful not to be touched.
Hours later, I sit on the floor, wrapped tight in my blanket. My head is resting against the wall. I tried to get some sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see Lompoc’s face. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here like this. My butt cheeks keep falling asleep, and my stomach is growling.
Susan’s voice sounds through the speaker, and I jump. “Are you hungry, Chase?”
I nod and pull the blanket tighter.
The door clicks open, and Susan walks in, carrying a tray. She hands it to me and sits down next to me on the floor. The tray holds a large bowl of broth with small noodles swimming around. Next to the bowl is a spoon rolled in a napkin, a hot cup of tea, and a new water jug. I pick up the napkin.
“Don’t react,” Susan barely whispers, and I look at her questioningly.
She doesn’t say another word, but when I unroll the napkin, I understand. Tiny handwriting is scribbled on the inner side. I set the napkin down and eat my soup. The vegetable broth seems to fill me with new hope. I want to pick up the napkin and read whatever is inside, but I know it’s too risky. Instead, I pretend to blow my nose on it, and stuff it into my pocket.
After finishing the last spoonful, I set the bowl aside and pick up the large teacup. It warms my hands and smells like herbs and flowers. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It smells like home. Dale always makes me tea when I don’t feel well. For a moment, I wonder if Susan knows this or if it’s a coincidence. It scares me to think they might know that much about me.
“I thought you might like to know, Lompoc has been suspended from PCR for the time being.”
I nod. “Good.”
We sit in silence, and I catch Susan watching me while I drink my tea. When the cup is empty, she takes it from me, sets the water jug on the floor, and leaves with the rest of the tray. I am alone again.
I’m tempted to get the napkin out but am too afraid the camera will see. I get up, careful to make sure it doesn’t fall out of my pocket, and step into the bathroom. I close the door behind me, unfold the napkin, and start reading. It’s an untidy scrawl, so it’s hard to decipher on the uneven paper, but I manage.
Chase,
Stay strong one more night. We’ll rescue you tomorrow at noon. Susan will leave the door unlocked. Run out of the room and turn left. Get to the far end of the corridor. Be quick! Hide behind the couch under the stairs. I’ll come and get you.
Nate
I read the note a few more times until I know it by heart. I rip the napkin into pieces and flush it down the toilet. I have no idea who Nate is, but because Susan brought me the note, I trust him—at least I have to risk it.
When I return to the main room, I feel exposed knowing the camera is watching me. I take the blanket from the floor and decide it’s time to overcome my fear of the chair—at least to some degree. I lean against the back of the chair where I think the camera can’t see me. Hidden from sight, I finally manage to get some rest, though it is filled with nightmares of the day before and what could be happening to my friends and Willow.
An alarm rings through the air, and I hear the door fly open. Men in peacer uniforms run into the room, keeping formation along the walls. One of them spots me and pulls me to my feet by the elbow, wrenching my shoulder. He throws me onto the chair, and I sigh in relief when he steps away.
“Turn off the damn alarm! She’s here, you idiots!” the officer yells, lowering his gun.
The alarm dies down but leaves a ringing in my ears. I look around and see four men facing me in a half circle—each of them carrying a rifle.
An officer in the middle waves the others out of the room and slings his weapon onto h
is back. “Make sure to remain in sight, Mrs. Hunter. If we can’t see you, we have to assume you did something stupid.”
His gaze terrifies me, but I nod. He turns to leave, door clicking shut behind him. As soon as he’s gone, I jump out of the chair I hate so much and return to my previous spot. But I make sure my feet are visible to the camera.
IX
Saturday
20
Chase
The morning sun illuminates the buildings outside. Susan comes in with another tray, a steaming pot of tea, and a sandwich. I subtly search the tray for another message. When I can’t find anything, I begin to eat. I can't help but smile after biting into the sandwich. The prospect of escaping today makes me feel hopeful.
“What are you happy about?” a voice asks from the door.
A man in his late fifties enters, flanked by two peacers. He walks toward me, and the two guards take up post by the door. Their rifles lowered but at attention.
“It’s a beautiful morning outside,” I lie with a wave at the windows.
He looks out the window and gives a slight nod before returning his attention to me. “Would you please sit down so we can talk?”
Reluctantly, I sit at the very edge of the chair. An aura of authority surrounds the man. His suit fits perfectly, and I’m sure it has been tailored for him. I recognize his silver hair and dark-rimmed glasses from pictures in the news.
“I’m Mayor Prius Ashcroft,” he introduces himself with what I’m sure he considers to be a winning smile. I don’t trust it. “I’m sure you’d like to know why I’m here. I have been informed about a slight . . . misunderstanding with one of my guards.”
I suppress a snort. Misunderstanding. That’s a stretch.
“My son’s fiancée, Miss Goodman, also informed me she has been unable to get answers out of you despite her best efforts. So, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” He opens his hands and holds them up. “I don’t mean you any harm. We’re just going to have a little chat.”
