I took one last giant breath before double-checking everything in my backpack and slipping out of the car. It was time. Lucas was waiting.
Cutting across the block to the sidewalk that bordered Congdon’s grounds, I glanced in the windows of nearby homes. Briskly, I paced to the far end of the block and checked the front gate, making sure no protesters had decided to make a reappearance, but the sidewalk in front of the guardhouse remained empty. I crept along the fence, to the spot where my shoes crunched over a pile of broken glass from the streetlights I’d knocked out last night. Hip hop thumped out an open window of a nearby house, but I didn’t see any movement other than a lone squirrel ducking through the fence’s iron bars. Pulling out a knotted length of rope from the backpack, I swung the looped side over the top of the fence and threaded the other end through, drawing it tight. I scaled easily up to the top and teetered there, carefully gripping the bars between the spikes to ease one foot over, then the other. Once I’d swung my weight over I grabbed the rope again and scaled down the other side, noting how much time it had taken while I tucked the trailing section along the fence. If someone searched the perimeter of the grounds they’d spot it, but to the casual observer it blended into the shadows.
I put on a full ski mask and cinched the hood up on my jacket. The gloves, baggy black sweatpants, and shoes had all been purchased at Goodwill, with cash. I crept through the grounds, sticking to the trees, until I had a view of both the isolation ward and the edge of the parking lot. There were no lights in the windows of the isolation rooms and I still didn’t know the night shift’s exact schedule to do their checks, but I did know when the shift changed.
At exactly 11:15, after the transfer of keys and notes, Jason Housley lumbered out to his Trans Am. I crouched under the bows of a pine, clutching Nurse Valerie’s badge, and held my breath. He started the car and floored the engine, then let it idle for what felt like an hour. Jesus, what was he doing in there? I couldn’t see him through the glare of the parking lot lights and started to get nervous. Could he tell something was wrong? He hadn’t hesitated before getting in the car. I edged to the far side of the tree, ready to run.
When he shot out of his parking spot and gunned out of sight, I waited, listening. Sooner or later he was going to have to turn to exit the parking lot. And sooner or later his tires – missing all their lug nuts – were going to come barreling off his baby.
The crash came seconds later, followed by an ear-splitting car alarm that jerked me into movement like the starting gun of a race. I sprinted to the emergency exit door and badged my way into an empty stairwell, ran down to the basement and opened the door I’d sealed with duct tape before my shift this morning to insure it wouldn’t latch. My tools – a hacksaw and can of spray paint – were exactly where I’d left them behind the fire extinguisher. I grabbed them and shoved the saw into my backpack, taking the stairs two at a time until I reached the emergency exit of the men’s isolation ward. I paused for a second, peering in the lead glass window, as the car alarm still shrieked in the night. No one was at the desk on the far side of the ward by the main entrance. I badged in just as the car alarm stopped. The quiet was deafening.
I breathed once, then pushed the door further open and slipped inside. It was impossible to tell from this angle if any patients were up and looking through their doors. Shaking the spray paint can and cringing at the noise, I aimed it at the corner of the ceiling directly above me, where a security camera was mounted to capture the entire corridor down to the main entrance. Hopefully the front desk security staff were still in the parking lot dealing with Jason’s accident and – with any luck – they’d think a black screen was a shorted-out wire before coming to investigate the camera. Once I had the lens covered, I duct taped the door latch, then crossed to the main desk to see which room Lucas was in. My fingers shook as I ran them over the check sheet, finally finding his name by room six. I had the lock pick ready as I sprinted to his door, attacking the knob and tripping myself up with the adrenaline rocketing through my body. Bump keys wouldn’t work on these doors. I had to pick through each individual weight and spring.
There was rustling and scraping in one of the rooms behind me, then a broken, singsongy voice started chanting words I couldn’t understand. It sounded like he had respiratory issues. A clavicular breathing pattern? I shook my head, forcing the voice out, and concentrated all my energy on the piece of metal separating me from Lucas. How much time did I have? Every second wasted was one second closer to failure.
I couldn’t hear anything inside Lucas’s room, or maybe I just couldn’t hear him over the combination of the singer and the pounding of my heart. More seconds ticked by. Sweat dripped down my temples under the mask and I started praying to the god of lock picking, to anyone who could help me break through this door. I was running out of time.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I popped the latch and turned the handle, pushing inside.
It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, I saw a body strapped to the bed in full restraints, unconscious.
‘Lucas,’ I whispered, going to work on the handcuffs, which were a walk in the park compared to that freaking door. I had both his feet free before he even blinked his eyes open.
‘Lucas, can you hear me?’
It took him a moment to focus on me and when he did, the ripple of fear over his face broke my heart. I paused at his left wrist and tugged the ski mask up, squeezing his hand.
‘Had enough of this place yet?’
As soon as my face came into view, his entire body lifted and his breath caught. A strangled noise came out of his throat.
‘Maya,’ he breathed, looking at me like he was drowning and I was the only buoy in all of Lake Superior. I swallowed a wave of emotion and smiled before pulling the ski mask back down.
‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’
I opened the last of his handcuffs, which was more difficult now that he’d woken up because he started tugging against them. When I’d finally gotten them all, I unfastened the straps on the straitjacket and pulled it off him as he staggered to his feet and then fell back on the bed heavily. I boxed his head in my hands, tilting his face to the light streaming in from the corridor. His pupils were contracted and he couldn’t stop blinking.
‘Swallow this. Quickly.’ I handed him two NoDoz pills from my pocket and he ate them without question.
‘Can you walk?’
He made himself stand up again, slower this time, and inhaled slowly. ‘I’ll crawl if I need to.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’
I peeked out of the room. The patient with respiratory issues had stopped singing and there was no sign of any staff yet. Ducking into the corridor, we moved awkwardly to the emergency exit. Lucas braced one arm along the wall while I pulled him by the other. We made it through the door and down the stairwell with Lucas falling twice and me helping him back to his feet. At the bottom of the stairs I pulled Nurse Valerie’s badge out and swiped it against the electronic pad.
Nothing.
I tried it again and the light turned red.
‘Fuck.’ I threw my weight against the door once, but it was solid metal.
‘Plan B.’
‘What’s a planbee?’ Lucas asked as I dragged him back up the stairs. The respiratory patient was giggling when we got back to the isolation ward. Laughter echoed down the hall and met the distant sound of walking feet. I pulled the can of spray paint out and shoved it into Lucas’s hands.
‘Spray everything.’