Luka, page 16
31
Rescued
When Tess appears beside me, my smile is immediate. “I was wondering if you’d show up.”
She scratches her wrist as silent waves spray against rock and seagulls swoop but don’t caw. “Are we …?”
“Dreaming? Yes.”
She casts her attention out to sea—where an orange sun sets over the ocean—then reels it back again. “How long have you been waiting?”
“A while,” I say. “I come here every night.”
“Why?”
“Hoping you’ll show up.” I bury my hands in the sand. “This is the first time since you started taking medicine.”
She wraps her arms around her knees and inhales deeply, the evening sun painting her profile a golden pink. “I wish we could stay here forever.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But it’s not real.” I sift the sand through my fingers—feeling it, knowing it’s not really there. But her brother, fighting for his life? That’s real. So are my parents, who will skin me alive should they wake up and discover I’m not in my bed.
A wave rolls onto the shore. The water stops just short of Tess’s bare toes.
“I don’t want to be crazy,” she says.
“I don’t think you are.” I take her hand and squeeze. “I never thought you were.”
“Then why did you let me take the medicine?”
Let her?
It’s an odd choice of words—one that implies I could have stopped her. I’m not sure I would’ve even if I could’ve. I have no idea how it works, but that medicine has provided respite from a host of invisible forces determined to make Tess look crazy. That medicine provided respite from the relentless cruelty of Summer and her groupies, too. “Because it made you happy and I like seeing you happy.”
Tess looks down at our hands and something strange happens. A tug, like the two of us are being pulled apart. Immediately, her grip tightens. So does mine. A growl rises within me. Not yet. We haven’t had nearly enough time together. I’m not ready to let her go. So I hold on with all the determination I can gather and we are dragged away together.
Gone is the sunset.
Gone is the silent sea.
Both have been replaced by four walls and beeping monitors. Tess and I stand inside a white and sterile hospital room. A familiar young man lies in the bed, bruised and battered, hooked to a plethora of machines. On one side of him stands a figure with greasy hair and white, unseeing eyes. On the other, a regular-looking man. With his hand casually propped on one of the machines and a jagged scar running down the length of his cheek.
The muscles in my arms coil. It’s the guy who lied to Tess about me. Told her I’m dangerous. He steps closer to Pete’s bedside with a smile, picks up his limp arm, and presses his finger against Pete’s wrist.
Tess steps forward. “Get away from him.”
The man cocks his head. “But he invited us here.” His voice is smooth, almost hypnotic as my attention slides from him to the one standing on Pete’s other side. “Your brother has been seeking us out ever since the séance in Jude.”
He moves the tip of his finger over Pete’s skin, carving a strange symbol into it. “He’s been very intrigued. Very curious. If people aren’t careful, that kind of curiosity leads to us.”
“What are you talking about?” Tess asks.
“He didn’t even notice what was happening. We have the upper hand that way. You see, people have a hard time fighting against something they don’t believe. Their denial makes our job easier. Your brother didn’t honestly think he was involving himself in anything dangerous until it was too late. Our only roadblock was you. At least until you started taking medicine.”
My heart thuds beneath my ribcage.
The medicine stopped Tess from seeing them.
The medicine stopped Tess from dreaming.
The medicine made her unable to fight when she did.
“Once you were no longer aware of our presence, getting to him was a piece of cake.” He finishes the symbol and drops Pete’s arm. “I think he’s ready.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“We’re going to give him his wish. He’s going to be ours.”
“No!” Tess lurches forward.
I step with her.
“You made your choice, Little Rabbit. Just as Pete made his. I’m afraid it’s too late.”
The man who hasn’t spoken—the one with unseeing, white eyes—unplugs one of the cords attached to Pete. And Tess strikes. She attacks the man with the scar, sweeping his legs out from under him. He grabs her elbow, but she twists her arm and spins around and shoves her palm into his face, connecting with his nose. He collapses to the ground as the white-eyed figure lunges at Tess from behind. A surge of intense, explosive heat bursts from my body just like it did that time in the locker bay, knocking the man away.
The other one recovers and I turn the blinding force on him. It hurls him into the wall, only instead of slamming against it, he flies through it and disappears.
Medical staff swarm the room. Nurses and doctors call out codes and shock Pete’s heart while the strange mark on his wrist fades away and the shrill ring of a phone startles me awake.
I bolt upright. So does Tess, our chests rising and falling in unison. Darkness all around. No remnant of that light remains, but I can feel it pulsing up my spine, down my arms, in my fingers. We stare at one another—wide-eyed—unable to believe what just happened.
The phone rings again.
Through the walls, Tess’s mother mumbles a groggy hello. There’s a pause. Unintelligible mumbling. Then footsteps in the hallway.
I hide in Tess’s closet with my ear pressed against the door as her mother says in a breathless rush, “He’s going to be okay, Tess. Pete’s going to be okay. That was your father. Your brother woke up.” A sharp sob follows the words while my mind spins like an F5 tornado.
We were there, in Pete’s room.
Tess fought.
I fought.
We won.
And now Pete is okay.
Pete is awake.
“I’m going there,” her mother continues. “Right now. I have to see him. Do you want to come?”
“You go,” Tess says. “I’ll come in the morning.”
As soon as the front door shuts, I’m out of the closet. Before I can ask any questions, Tess flips on her light and hurries across the hall.
I follow her into Pete’s bedroom, my thoughts kicking up a whirlwind of debris. Tess told me she fought in her dreams. I believed her. Of course I believed her. But I didn’t understand. Not really. Not fully. Not until now.
She digs under her brother’s bed, pulling out Tarot cards, a Ouija board, and several books with dark, disturbing titles. I remember what the man said in our sleep. Your brother has been seeking us out ever since the seance in Jude. Is this what he meant?
“What’s going on?” I ask. “How did you bring me with you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is that what used to happen in your dreams—before the medicine? Did you always fight like that?”
Nodding, she gathers up the paraphernalia and hands it to me. She opens Pete’s laptop and pulls up a search history every bit as dark and sinister as the books I’m holding in my arms. She deletes the whole of it with one click and pushes away from his desk. “My brother’s okay, but we have to make sure he stays that way. We have to get rid of all this stuff.”
I don’t argue.
We carry it down the stairs into the living room and pile it in the fireplace. I douse the items with lighter fluid, light a match, and toss it in.
It ignites into flame.
“I did it again.” I try to get my thoughts to settle. The spinning to slow. But it feels impossible. Everything is disjointed and out of order. “That man came at you and I—I stopped him. You brought me with you into that dream.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I have no idea, but I’m glad it happened.”
The fire flickers and bursts. An awful, ear-piercing screech fills the room, so loud Tess clamps her hands over her ears. So loud I step back in alarm.
The screeching stops.
The fire goes dark in the grate.
I stare with my mouth ajar, unable to believe any of this, unable to deny any of it either. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t think you should go back on that medicine.”
My words come with implication.
The implication wounds.
It’s not something she wants to hear.
Tess shakes her head. “I didn’t ask for this.”
I take a step toward her.
“I just want to be normal. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Tess,” I say, my voice gentle.
“You don’t get it.” She bites her lip. “All those people in the pile up? That boy in the drive-by shooting? If what you’re saying is true, then those deaths are my fault.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“Yes, they are.” Tears well in her eyes.
My heart throbs.
She’s falling apart.
I refuse to stand by and watch it happen.
“Listen, Tess. The past is the past. It’s done. It’s over. It only has power if you let it keep you from making the right choice in the present.” I lower my chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I didn’t get it before. I didn’t understand. But after what I saw tonight. The way you fought? You can’t run away from that.”
She takes a ragged breath. Then she walks up the stairs and flushes the medicine down her toilet.
“What now?” I ask.
“Now we go to Eugene. I need to speak with my grandmother.”
32
Breaking and Entering
Thanks to the pile-up on Highway Seven, Tess’s car is totaled. If we’re getting to Eugene, we need mine. I find my keys in the same spot as my phone, then proceed to look for anything else that might be of use as we attempt the impossible—breaking into a high-security mental institution.
We do have some advantages on our side. My father works in the world of mental rehabilitation. Hers works as an executive for one of the world’s most prominent security companies. Before Tess came to Thornsdale, she spent plenty of weekends shadowing him on the job. She knows more about disarming alarms than the average teenager. When we meet in my car, I have my father’s ID card. She has her father’s, too. Along with a company iPad and two tasers, to which I raise my eyebrows.
I keep my headlights off until we reach the main road. As soon as they’re on, Tess slumps in her seat. “This is crazy.” She shakes her head and presses her fingers against her temples. “We don’t even know what the facility is called.”
“Google it.”
She powers up the iPad and searches for a mental health facility located in Eugene, Oregon. The place is called Shady Wood.
We plug in the address, stop at a gas station on the outskirts of town to grab some coffee, and spend the next five hours swapping questions without answers and concocting a game plan. According to Dr. Roth, Tess’s grandmother isn’t allowed visitors, so it’s not like we can go up to the front desk and ask to see Elaine Eckhart.
By the time the sun rises, my parents have called three times, watering my sense of impending doom, my father’s warning loud in my ears. I imagine him pulling me from Thornsdale, shipping me off to some expensive school overseas. Would my mother allow it?
Before we enter the city limits of Eugene, I pull into another gas station. We rinse our faces, use the restroom, buy a couple bottles of water and a cinnamon roll to split. I eat most of it while Tess logs into her father’s work site using passwords she memorized long ago. She types Shady Wood into the system. It’s listed as a mental rehabilitation center. Their tagline promises treatment and healing so patients can rejoin society as healthy contributors. Her grandmother has been a patient for fifteen years, making me seriously doubt their effectiveness.
I turn onto an obscure road that winds through the woods. When the facility comes into view, I park behind a thicket of trees and cut the engine. We lean back in our seats and stare at one another, the silence bloated between us. If we do this and get caught, never mind being grounded. We could end up in jail. But even as I consider backing out—turning around and driving home—I know we can’t. Something absolutely crazy is going on and I don’t mean in our heads. If we want answers, our best shot lies with Tess’s grandmother.
I reach across the console and squeeze her hand. “You ready?”
“I think so.”
We creep toward the iron gate. It’s unoccupied. So, too, are the grounds beyond. It’s a Saturday morning and the place is a ghost town. Sad for the patients inside. Fortunate for us. We aren’t in a hurry to encounter anyone—visitor, patient, doctor or otherwise.
I step up to the scanner. “Here goes nothing.” I hold my father’s identification card in front of the automated lock.
The scanner emits a series of pitchy beeps. Then a feminine robotic voice announces, “Voice activation required.”
Having anticipated such a requirement, I hold my phone up to the speaker and play my father’s most recent voice message aloud. “Luka, call me now.”
“Identity accepted. Thank you.”
With a rattling clang, the iron gate groans open.
Tess and I blink at one another.
I don’t think either of us thought that would work. But it has. I grab her hand and we dart across the grounds, eager to escape the wide-open space that is the front lawn of Shady Wood. I pull her away from the main double doors, toward the west wing. We press our bodies against the wall and slink to the entrance. I hold my dad’s ID card up to the scanner again.
This time, nothing happens.
Tess removes the iPad from her backpack and presses the back of it against the scanner, which is marked with Safe Guard’s security logo. Shady Wood’s account loads. She clicks a tab marked employee access and punches in a password. She presses the iPad to the scanner and a string of security codes scrolls down the screen. She types in west wing code.
E6bs*9zx%
She punches the characters into the keypad above the scanner—her fingers trembling—and the lock clicks. I grab the handle and pull the door open.
Inside, a deserted hallway hums with fluorescent light.
I tap Tess on the shoulder and nod for her to follow. We creep against the wall—quickly, silently. I grab the handle of the first door we reach and pull Tess inside a supply closet, our breath escaping in nervous puffs.
“Now what?” she whispers.
I don’t know.
We focused so much of our energy on getting in, we didn’t think much about how to find her grandmother once we did. I search the closet for something useful and find a box of scrubs.
We grab a pair and pull them on. Even the smallest size is too big for Tess. She has to roll her sleeves and pant legs several times. She’s just finishing with the adjustment when the sound of whistling squeezes under the door.
Tess’s eyes go round.
I hold my finger to my lips, then crack the door the tiniest sliver. A female employee strolls toward us. I motion for Tess’s backpack. She hands it over. I remove one of the tasers and point to the back of the closet.
“What are you going to do?” she whispers.
“Get in the back.” If this goes wrong, I don’t want her within arm’s reach.
The whistling grows louder. Closer. As soon as it reaches us, I bang on the closet door.
The whistling stops.
There’s a moment of silence and then, “Is somebody in there?”
I wave at Tess to speak.
She clears her throat. “Help, please!”
The doorknob twists and the woman appears. Before she can register me or Tess, I zap her with the taser. It emits a loud screech and drops her to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Tess hisses as I drag her all the way in.
“Getting her key fob.”
“What voltage did you use?” She stares in horror at the taser in my hand.
“A very high one, apparently.” I nod to a shelf with duct tape and rope. “She’s not going to stay unconscious forever and we can’t have her alerting people that somebody knocked her out and shoved her in a closet.”
As much as I’m loathed to do it, we bind her hands and feet, put duct tape over her mouth. All the while, Tess mutters apologies the woman can’t hear. When we’re finished, Tess removes the key fob from around the woman’s neck. I take her charts and we peek outside. The hallway is empty. So we leave the closet and the woman behind—Tess, a little too quickly.
“Slow down,” I say from the corner of my mouth. “Act natural.” I set the pace, standing tall, my shoulders pulled back in a perfect imitation of my father. I hold the folder open in front of me and study the notes.
“Do you see her name anywhere?” Tess asks.
I shake my head.
A nurse comes out of a room.
I swear, I can hear Tess’s heart. Distress pours off her in tangible waves. I point at something in the file, distracting Tess with a pretend conversation, and the nurse passes without a second glance. Not even a first. We pass several more employees, but nobody questions us. Nobody greets us. Nobody makes eye contact at all. Unsettling, but not unwelcome. The oppressive atmosphere works to our advantage. It’s much easier to blend in when nobody cares to look at you.
According to the map Tess studied, patients aren’t housed on the first floor. So we find a stairwell and head up to the second. Tess uses the key fob on the first door we come upon. It unlatches and we step inside a room filled with beds. Rows and rows of beds. Each one occupied. But not a single patient is awake. Every single one of them is unmoving. And gaunt. Like they haven’t moved in quite some time.
Nausea grabs me by the stomach.
“What is this?” Tess whispers.
“It isn’t rehabilitation, that’s for sure.”
