or look further for explanations.
Unless there happened to be witnesses.
I held on to Molly, not sure whether to go forward or back. The nursing station was close, a hundred feet away. There were phones there. And, with any luck, nurses. And staff.
Warily, we stepped through the security door into the territory of violent patients. Patients with dangerous, unpredictable behavior. Like Evie Kraus. I listened, hoping to hear her singing. But I heard nothing. Nobody seemed to be around. Where was everyone? The staff? Had the patients already gotten out? We headed toward the nursing station. The floor gleamed, reflecting hazy light. But nothing moved. We passed patient rooms, a kitchenette, a shower, a linen closet. We were approaching the nursing station when a wiry brunette rushed out at us. Her stride was swift and confident; I recognized her spectacles, her high, glossy boots. I yanked Molly’s hand and veered across the hall an arm’s length ahead, barely glimpsing the thin, shiny object slipping from the brunette’s pink sleeve. I sprinted forward, dragging Molly, glancing behind us. The brunette swung her arms out and pounced, catlike. Pain ripped through my back; I let go of Molly’s hand and heard myself tell her to run out to the hall. The way we’d come.
I whirled around to show her, trying to go with her. But the hallway lost definition. The brunette, the walls, the doorways— everything blurred and darkened. Hot pain hissed, slid under my ribs to my lungs. Charlie shouted something as my legs buckled and stuck to the floor, and pain opened its fangs and swallowed me. I sank, thudding beside the black boots, fading. I thought of Molly, heard a sweet voice call, “Mommy!” and, looking up, saw small feet scampering away, disappearing through an open door.
SEVENTY
THE BLACK HIGH-HEELED BOOTS DIDN’T MOVE RIGHT AWAY. I lay on the floor, looking at them, trying to focus. Woods’s spectacled face emerged, painted with red lipstick. The dark brown wig was now askew, sitting like a nesting bird atop his head. He adjusted it and peered down at me. I tried to speak, but, unable to find any part of my body that made words, I decided that I must be dying, if not already dead. Apparently, Woods shared that opinion; he walked off, checking his sweater for something, probably blood.
The corridor was silent. I lay there, unable to move, watching the walls wobble and sway. Molly was my only thought, my only care. I couldn’t let Woods catch her, had to stop him. I listened for her voice, heard nothing. Not a sound. Why? My thoughts blurred. Move, I told myself. My body didn’t know how. Nerves had shut down, disconnected from muscles; muscles couldn’t respond. Had Woods severed my spinal cord? Was I paralyzed? Warm liquid pooled under me, and breathing was difficult. Inhaling was excruciating, took all my energy. But I was still breathing. That meant I was alive. And if I felt pain, some of my nerves must be alive, too. In that case, I should be able to move. To find help.
Slowly, with monumental effort, I managed to turn my neck, move my head to see the hallway better. Images pulsed unsteadily, but I strained my neck so I could see ahead. I pressed my shoulders against the floor and repositioned my head. I’d never been very aware of the floor, never paid attention to it. Now the floor seemed fascinating. Solid. Dependable. And very strong. I lay against it, letting it support me, realizing that it was my friend. It would help me. If I pressed one arm against it and rocked the opposite way, I’d be able to push off against it and roll onto my stomach. If I had the strength. I thought of Woods and Molly, closed my eyes, and pushed. Pressing and rocking, I began moving slightly from side to side.
I rocked from side to side until I had momentum. Then I pushed, gasped, gave a wrenching shove, and rolled over onto my stomach. Pain blinded me. Were the lights dimming, or was I passing out? I couldn’t pass out, had to stay awake. Get help. Find Molly. I waited for the pain to ease, heard only my own panting, no footsteps, no screams, no struggles. Grimacing, I bent my knees one at a time, lifted my hips, hoisted myself up with my elbows, and pushed forward, inching my way ahead. Finally the steel door was within a few steps. I pushed myself