The Treatment (26 page)

“Sloane?” I turn and see Asa coming down the adjacent hall. “What are you doing out of your room?”

“I need to get to Dallas,” I say. “You have to help me save her.”

Asa shoots an alarmed look around the empty hall before
jogging over to grab my arm, turning and leading me back toward my room. I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip.

“Let me go,” I call out, but he only quickens his pace. “You’re hurting me.” When we get to my room, he slingshots me inside, making me stumble against the bed. He checks the hall once more before closing the door.

“Have you lost your mind?” he shouts, and then glances behind him at the door. Drawing the attention of the nurses or other handlers is the last thing Asa wants, and I test him by trying for the door again. He grabs me, pulling me to his side. He doesn’t look down at me, only tips his head in my direction while he stares straight ahead.

“If you do this, Sloane, they will end you. There is no way out of solitary without Dr. Beckett’s approval.” His hazel eyes find mine. “And I’m guessing you don’t have that.”

“I can’t let them lobotomize her. You have to help me, Asa.”

There’s a weakening in his posture, but he only shrugs. “I can’t,” he whispers. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. Not without compromising myself.”

“Then what?” I ask. “What am I supposed to do? After Dallas, then it’ll be me. Will you wait then, too?”

“No, I made Realm a promise.”

“Why?” I ask, throwing up my hands. “What do you owe him that could be worth this much?”

Asa darts his gaze away, his cheeks growing flushed. “Michael Realm saved my life once, and I owe him.”

“Maybe he was lying to you, too.”

Asa smiles at this, turning to me. “He was. He definitely was, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. I would have killed myself—I sure as hell wanted to. Realm was my only friend. Real or not, he saved me. And this is how I’m paying him back. He loves you, Sloane. For all his flaws, he loves you.”

“Too bad I don’t feel the same,” I respond. “Be sure to tell him that.”

Asa flinches when his phone vibrates. He pulls it out to check a message and then takes a step backward. “I have to go,” he says. “But I need you to stay away from Dallas. You have four days—you can’t let them take you to the surgeon before then. Do you understand me?”

“Like I can stop it.”

“Do what you can,” he offers. He slips out the door, but not before I noticed the way his skin paled, his muscles tensed. Despite Asa’s warning, I can’t let it go. I can’t just leave Dallas helpless for them to stick a metal rod behind her eye and sever her life. There has to be something I can do.

My breathing is jagged and adrenaline starts to pulsate as a frantic thought takes over. Maybe I can fight our way out.

I scan the room, looking for anything I can use as a weapon. All I see are covered plates of food and the plastic spoon that sits on the side of the breakfast tray. I wish Nurse Kell would have left her knitting needles or something sharp. I’ll need a key card to get into solitary, and it’s obvious Asa isn’t just going to hand over his.

The minutes tick by, and all I can think about is Dallas,
whose life is about to be irrevocably changed. No one else will help her. I’m the only person who can save her. I walk over to clear off the tray of food and then pick up the flat metal pan. I’m going to have to take a key.

I crack open my door and peer out, hoping to find a nurse heading in this direction—but the hall is empty. The tray is cold in my hand and my heart is pumping blood loudly into my ears. I’ll have to hurt someone, and even though I’m mad as hell, I still don’t want to do that. But what choice have they left me? I’ll get to Dallas, get her out of solitary, and then we make a break for it. My entire future depends on luck, on not getting caught.

I blow out a steadying breath, wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind at this point. Then I lean forward and whistle loudly. When I hear nothing in return, I do it again, and then there is the shuffling of feet. I curse, suddenly debating this idea, but close my door and hide behind it. The footsteps get louder, and I lift the metal tray above my head, readying the force I’ll need to bring it down on whoever walks in the door.

The world is moving in slow motion as I watch the handle turn, the twitch in my arm, the shake of my breath. And then there is a side profile, followed by the back of a head with short red hair. I bring the tray down with as much force as I can. The metal connects against the hard skull with a heavy clang, sending vibrations up my arm. I see the bend of the metal and lift the tray to drive it down again, but the body falls to the floor in front of me.

It’s Nurse Kell. I lower my arms and let them hang lifelessly,
guiltily, at my sides. For a terrible moment I think she’s dead, but then I hear a gurgle, a soft moan. I have only a moment. I have to get to Dallas.

I lean down and grab Nurse Kell’s key card from her hip, and then, still carrying the tray, I rush from the room. I book down the hallway, my head whipping from side to side as I search for the right set of double doors. I expect an alarm to sound, flooding the hall with handlers, but nothing happens. Not yet.

The nurses’ station is just ahead, and I stop and press myself to the wall, just out of their view. I’m not sure how to get past them, not carrying a metal tray and looking crazy. I set my weapon down on the white floor and then start forward. Therapy. I could be going to therapy.

A young, dark-haired nurse glances up as I pass. I nod to him, and he goes back to his computer as I take the turn just before the doctors’ wing. Once in the new hallway, I recognize the door at the end and start running again. This is where Asa took me when I visited Dallas. I’m not sure if she’s still there, but I’m about to find out.

After a quick check around me, I use Nurse Kell’s key card and cautiously walk inside, seeing a series of rooms. I can’t remember which is Dallas’s, but she must be the only person down here because all the doors are open but one. I swallow hard, scared she won’t actually be inside—that maybe I’m too late. I swipe the key card and then push the door open, my stomach in knots.

The room is awash in muted colors, and it takes me a long moment to find the figure inside wearing gray scrubs. Just at that moment, Dallas lifts her head, her eyes widening when she sees me. “Sloane?” she calls in a weak voice.

“Oh, thank God,” I say, and move quickly to grab her. Dallas has dark circles that have changed the shape of her eyelids, drawing them down. She’s been here only for a few days, but she looks sickly and even thinner than before. I think the isolation has been wearing on her.

“We have to get out of here,” I say. “They’re going to lobotomize you.”

I help her up, and Dallas staggers beside me, wobbly like it’s been too long since she’s walked. “What?” she asks, looking over. “Lobotomy?” She uses the word like she’s never heard it before. I’m not sure what sort of psychosis she’s in, but I have to get us out of here.

“We’re escaping,” I tell her. “And if we fail, they’re going to lobotomize both of us. They’ve already done it to Lacey, and we’re next. Now move your ass!” I push her ahead toward the doors, checking behind us and sticking close to the wall. I’m waiting for an overhead alarm, flashing lights, but it’s still quiet. There’s terrible guilt as I wonder if anyone has found Nurse Kell yet.

When we get to the double doors, I pause, my hand against the frame. “Dallas,” I say, drawing a half-glazed stare from her. “We have to run for the stairs, do you understand? Don’t stop, not for anyone. Not even for me.”

It takes a second, but I see the life start to return to Dallas’s eyes. Suddenly she reaches out to hug me, a quick squeeze before pulling back and nodding toward the door. I swipe the card, and then we’re walking, heading for the staircase, which is on the other side of the nurses’ station.

But we don’t make it. I’m not sure how many steps I take before I feel the sting, the surge, the overwhelming cramp that overtakes my body. The world freezes up and locks, and I’m crumbling, falling in a heap on the floor. My body quivers, tears leak from my eyes, and drool slips from my mouth. My eyes roll back in my head, and when I can finally focus again, I see the white coat of a handler, a Taser in his hand.

Suddenly someone else is there, grabbing me by the shoulders to drag me down the hall, placing me in the open before flipping me onto my back. I see Asa, staring down at me with a cold stare, not disappointed or angry, just empty. In the distance I hear Dallas screaming, calling for me. But I can’t help her now.

“I’m getting a wheelchair,” Asa begins, “and then I’m taking you to solitary.” He looks down the hall, waiting for someone. I want to ask him about Kell, but I’m still shaking too much to talk, my jaw locked as my muscles continue to spasm.

The chair arrives, and Asa and another handler lift me and set me down. I’m slumped to the side, but no one offers any help or asks if I’m okay. I think they’re going to kill me this time. I’ve finally crossed too many lines. I’m expecting to be driven to Dr. Beckett, but instead they turn and I’m going back
where I came from. They drag me over to drop me on the bed in a room next to Dallas’s. The handlers fasten me down and leave, Asa not even turning back to look at me.

*  *  *

There’s a tapping noise, something faint at first, but the more awake I get, the louder it becomes. I open my eyes, at first startled by the unfamiliar room, until I remind myself that I’m in a Program hospital. I’m waiting to be lobotomized. The tapping stops. I turn to my right, and at first I’m too stunned to react.

“Hello, Sloane,” Roger says. “I think we need to have a little chat.”

I open my mouth to scream, but Roger is across the room in a heartbeat, his hand over my mouth. “Now, now,” he says. “Don’t make me cut your throat.”

I continue fighting anyway, thrashing my head from side to side. Roger takes a step back, wincing and cupping his side where Dallas stabbed him. The minute his palm slips from my mouth and my first scream breaks through the room, his grip on my neck promptly cuts them off. I choke, my eyes widening as air is strangled out of me.

“Let’s try this again,” he growls as my chest starts to burn. I try to gasp, but I can’t get any air in or out. “I’m going to kill your friend,” he says, “but first I need to locate him. Where is Michael Realm?”

I don’t know,
I mouth, struggling against my restraints, but it’s no use. Roger’s weight is too heavy, his strength far outweighing
mine. It feels like he’s crushing my bones. He’s going to kill me.

“Here’s the thing, Sloane,” Roger says conversationally, even as small black dots are starting to appear in the corners of my vision. I’m about to pass out. “Realm has something that belongs to me. I’m willing to trade for it, but first I need to find him. Now, you’ll help me, or I’ll destroy Dallas.” Roger lowers his face until it’s just over mine. I try again to take a breath, and fail. Roger smiles sweetly. “I will break her, Sloane. She’ll wish she were dead.”

His threat is enough to send me renewed energy, and I use what little strength I have left to bring up my knee as hard as I can. It strikes his thigh, knocking him off balance and sending him sideways. I start to scream, but my voice is raw, ripping at my throat as I beg for help. I choke on the air I try to take into my lungs. I watch helplessly as Roger staggers to his feet, holding his chest. He must still be healing from where he was stabbed, and I have a wild hope that his wounds will reopen and he’ll bleed to death.

“I will find him,” Roger says, pointing at me as he moves for the door. “Michael Realm is dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Help!” I try to yell, but it comes out only as a whisper before another coughing fit starts. Roger is out the door, and I’m crying, rolling from side to side to somehow free my bonds, tearing the flesh on my barely healed wrists. “Help!” I call again, worried that he crushed my windpipe and I’ll
never get my voice back.

There’s the sound of footsteps, and I lift my head. The door flies open, and Asa looks in. The minute he sees me, he grabs his radio and calls in a code. I try to tell him about Roger: He’s going to kill Realm, do something horrible to Dallas, but he’s shushing me, working frantically to undo my restraints.

More people arrive, but they never let me talk. I’m strapped to a gurney, white coats whizzing by me as I continue to struggle for breath. I’m watching for Roger’s face, but he’s gone. Like a phantom who came to haunt me, he’s disappeared, making me wonder if he was really there at all. But at the end of the hall, just before they push me down the medical wing for X-rays, I hear one of the nurses say, “Oh my God. What happened to her neck?”

And I knew Roger had really been here after all.

*  *  *

I’m momentarily untied, surrounded by handlers in an infirmary while we wait for Dr. Beckett. “It was Roger,” I rasp to Asa as my throat continues to ache. He nods, his shoulders rigid and his posture alert.

“Yeah, I saw him run past me. I thought he’d come from Dallas’s room, but then I heard you calling.” His eyes lower, heavy with guilt, and I reach to put my hand on his forearm. The minute I do, he flinches away as if I’ve burned him. I broke his trust by going after Dallas. I don’t think he’ll help me again.

The doctor walks into the room, and Asa moves quickly to pull him aside before he can talk to me. I watch, anxious to tell
Dr. Beckett exactly what happened so he can stop Roger from hurting Dallas or from finding Realm.

The doctor takes out his phone and begins talking; shooting concerned looks in my direction. Is he calling Roger? Would The Program get the police involved? After a moment Dr. Beckett hangs up, walking past Asa to stop in front of me. Absently, I touch my neck.

His smile is apologetic but warm. “Leave us for moment,” he tells the other handlers, glancing back at them once. They exchange looks but then leave—including Asa. Soon it’s just me and the good doctor, alone in a tiny white room. I’m starting to panic—afraid the doctor will try to hurt me like Roger did. I’m vulnerable. I’m scared.