“Crime. We’ll just hurt each other forever until someone puts an end to it. And someone will. Do you know why?”
The sheriff was silent. Mrs. Henderson smiled.
“Because God is a murderer, Daddy.”
With that, Mrs. Henderson grabbed the gun and ran at the sheriff, screaming. The sheriff raised his gun and fired.
Chapter 69
Christopher was strapped to the gurney in the operating room. The hissing lady smiled down at him as he writhed like a fish on a boat deck. Her trophy. Her prize. She went to David Olson, unconscious on the metal table next to him. She petted his forehead like she would a little dog.
“We need the worm to catch the fish. Your tongue will be the squirming worm.”
Christopher slammed his mouth shut.
“Open your mouth, Christopher.”
Christopher stared at her in terror. He saw the key around her neck, buried under her flesh like a ghoulish necklace. The key for all of them to escape.
“Four ways in. Three ways out,” she hummed. “You know two. We know more. I have the key. But where is the door?”
She took her scaly left hand and pressed down on his nose with her thumb and pointer. Cutting off his air.
“Now let’s see that tongue. This is for your own good.”
One minute became two and finally, his lungs gave out. Christopher took a massive breath of air. The hissing lady jammed her left hand inside his mouth and grabbed his tongue. Her right pulled out the scalpel.
And Christopher bit down.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” the hissing lady shrieked.
Christopher’s teeth snapped her pointer like a breadstick. He could feel the rotten meat in his mouth. He spit her finger to the floor. The hissing lady looked at the stump of her finger shooting blood like a fountain. She turned to him. The look on her face bordering on amazement. Or was that fear? She bent down and grabbed her severed finger. She put the finger back in its place. Then, she brought both finger and hand to her forehead and used the heat to weld it back together. Good as new.
“Okay, Christopher. You want to keep your tongue. That’s fine. You can keep it.”
Then, she slammed tape over his mouth.
“We’ll just get the answers where they’re really hiding,” she said, tapping on his forehead. “Nurse, may I have the bone saw, please?”
Christopher screamed under the tape. He saw the nurse give the hissing lady a gleaming metal saw with jagged baby teeth. It turned on with a whir, screaming like a dentist’s drill. The blade rested inches from his scalp. He closed his eyes, preparing for death. Yet somehow, he didn’t feel scared. He felt almost soothed.
My mother is…
My mother is…with me on the real side.
He could feel her in the room with him. Her hands on his skin. Trying to find the cool side of the pillow.
My mother is…
My mother is…saying she will get me out of here.
Just then, the lights cut out, leaving the hospital in darkness. Christopher looked around, but he could see nothing. He just heard screams. And running footsteps. The sound of a body slamming against the hissing lady. The bone saw hitting her skin.
And the nice man’s voice.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” the nice man said.
Christopher felt the gurney move. Racing through the darkness.
“GET HIM! HE’S OFF THE STREET!” the hissing lady screamed.
“Say nothing. Don’t leave her a trail.”
“STOP HELPING HIM!” the hissing lady screeched at the nice man from the darkness.
The gurney took a sharp right and raced down the hallway. The children howled behind them. The nice man turned the gurney like a skateboard and raced toward a dim light at the end of the hallway. Christopher felt the nice man’s soothing hand rip the leather restraints from his wrists.
“Sit up, son,” he said gently. “I need your eyes.”
Christopher ripped the tape from his mouth and shook his hands loose. Then, he sat up and tore the straps away from his ankles. He was free.
“Now what do you see?” the nice man said.
Christopher squinted in the darkness, but somehow, he could make out shapes. Mailbox people and deer. Crouched low in the shadows. Waiting to ambush.
“They’re blocking the exit,” Christopher said.
“Good job, son.”
The nice man turned the gurney. Running faster and faster down another hallway. His feet hitting the floor. Smack smack smack. Like a grandma’s kiss. The gurney slammed through two doors, which swung like shutters in a storm. The nice man stopped and wrapped his belt around the door handles. The mailbox people threw themselves against the door.