6:00 p.m. Santa and his elves had arrived. The stage was set up with a fake sleigh and reindeer. Even good old Rudolph was in the building. The patients were loving the show. It was like it turned them into excited little children.
Six turned to seven, seven to eight. Eight turned to nine p.m. and . . . still no word from Mia. I could only hope she would be parked where I told her in the voice mail, near the hospital. I paced in my room, bouncing my red rubber ball and going over the plan again and again in my head.
I put on the Santa outfit and waited. I thought about the life I could have after this, the things I would do and experience with Mia, especially with nine million in the bank.
And I would get back to writing. This time, fact instead of fiction.
What a fucking story. I could write about all I had gone through and maybe, in turn, help others through their own struggles in life.
But I couldn’t get ahead of myself—I was still in the here and now. At the Mayberry Psychiatric Hospital.
But not for long.
The holiday play wrapped up, and after mingling with the patients, the costumed actors packed up their things.
“Lights out!” the security guard said, his voice echoing throughout the wing. It was time.
My stomach fluttered with nervousness. He made his round down my hallway. Just after he passed my door I slipped out, not making a noise. Using Red’s key card, I scurried through a maze of locked doors. I had the whole floor plan committed to memory. I was feeling like James Bond, stealthily trailing the guards as they made their last checks of the night. I followed the moving light from their flashlights, bouncing from wing to wing, making my way closer to the back exit.
I was careful not to make a sound.
Nearing the East Wing, I walked slowly but confidently. I was almost out. Red said there would be no guard here. As I entered the wing, I picked up my pace. Nearing the door, on my way to freedom, I heard . . . another door open.
A flashlight shone in my direction.
I quickly hid behind a trash can, the light growing closer and closer. The trash can was only a few feet from the door leading to freedom and, assuming she got my message and came through, Mia’s car . . .
“West Wing, this is East Wing,” the guard said into his walkie-talkie as he made his way closer to me. “Thought I saw something down here. Checking it out now.”
Godammit, Red! I thought. You said nobody was gonna be on this route tonight!
The security guard was now only feet from me, the trash can shielding my body. But if he continued to walk just a few more steps, then turn to the left, he would surely spot me—
“Hey, who are you?!” the guard said.
Oh, shit.
“I’m an elf, obviously!” said another voice. “I forgot my wallet and have to get home or my wife is gonna kill me. I’m already late.”
“Oh, I see,” said the guard. “Okay, well, did you grab it?”
“Yes sir, just on my way out now! Thank you.”
“Well, be more attentive next time, will ya?”
“Yes sir,” the voice said. “You got it.”
“West Wing, East Wing here,” said the guard, speaking into his walkie-talkie again. “It was just one of those actors from Santa’s play. Never seen a black elf before.”
I watched as he walked through a door and shut it. I couldn’t see anyone and it was dead quiet, so I got up and began walking quickly toward the door until . . .
I was grabbed by both arms.
“Oh, shit!” I said, looking around. It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything.
“Hey, kid,” said a familiar voice. “It’s me!” I could barely make out the goofy elf costume in the dark.
“Red? What the hell, man?! I thought you said there wasn’t gonna be a guard in this wing tonight? And why are you—”
“That’s just why I’m here,” he interrupted. “I had to tell you. I overheard the guards saying that even though Henry called out sick, another guard ended up covering his shift. In the East Wing.”
“Well, yeah . . . I can see that.”
“Look, Flynn, I’m sorry, okay? I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?” Even in the dark, I could make out his smile.
“Yeah, but that’s just the thing. You’re here now, so how are you supposed to make it back?”
“Well,