Voices

by R.E. Rowe

  “This is bad,” Honesti gasps. “Not Aimee.”

  My pulse quickens. I walk up to JT, grab his shirt and pull him in until his face is a few inches away. “What the hell do you mean, missing?”

  “Easy—” JT pushes me away. “She disappeared from her hospital bed yesterday after breakfast. The nurses didn’t see a thing. The news is speculating she’s with you. They’re saying she either ran away or you kidnaped her. Even issued an Amber Alert. The entire town is searching, but I doubt they’ll find her.”

  My head feels as if it’s going to explode. “Why do you say that?”

  “My guess is Zeke snatched her.”

  Honesti gasps.

  “You should have kicked his ass when you had the chance,” says Bouncer.

  “Bouncer!” shouts Honesti. “Remember Reizo’s rules.”

  My face burns. “Where would Zeke take her?”

  JT hesitates, and then lets out a blast of cigarette breath as he speaks. “Where the hell do you think? Probably the oldest historic building in town, one that’s owned by the Sarov Corp.”

  “You mean—?”

  JT nods. “Yep, Willowgate Psychiatric Hospital.”

  “But why does Zeke care so much?” I kick the cement and groan, then shout. “All because of a stupid will?”

  JT shakes his head yes. “I suppose they can’t take the chance that they’ll lose control of Franklinville. The will, Z. Give them the freaking will.”

  I know what I need to do. There really are no other options.

  “Do me a favor and contact Aimee’s mom," I say. "Tell her I’m not with Aimee. Tell her we’ll all meet up at Murdock’s ranch once I find Aimee. Oh, and let her know about the Russians and the Sarov’s. She’ll know what to do.”

  “Where you going now?” asks JT.

  “Where do you think?” I groan. “I’m going to find her at Willowgate.”

  “No, not that place,” whispers Bouncer.

  “He doesn’t have a choice,” says Honesti.

  “You want a ride?” asks JT.

  His offer surprises me, given that it’s the middle of the workday. “No, but thanks.”

  “Be careful,” JT says. “If I were you, I’d—”

  “Give them the will. Got it. I hear what you’re saying.”

  “They’re bad news, dude.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I owe you, man.”

  “The understatement of the century,” JT replies. “Now get the hell out of here.”

  I take off running down side streets and through every drainage pipe I know.

  “You’re seriously going to Willowgate?” Honesti asks.

  “Are you crazy?” Bouncer asks.

  I wipe the sweat from my forehead and continue jogging.

  “Ames needs me,” I say, breathing hard.

  “Tell me you’re kidding?” asks Bouncer, his voice sharp and unusually serious. “Tell me!”

  “This is really dangerous, Reizo,” says Honesti.

  “Are you going to tell them you’ll forget about the will?” asks Bouncer.

  I run faster in the direction of the one place I vowed never to see again. “Nope.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” asks Honesti.

  “I’m going to break her out.”

  Honesti and Bouncer gasp. They stay quiet the entire thirty-minute jog. When I arrive at Willowgate, I find a tree to hide behind, and then peer at the entrance. Weathered iron brackets and wood cornices support the roof, giving the front an old Victorian-gothic look. I want to puke.

  “You gonna stand here all day, sport?” asks Bouncer.

  “Please reconsider,” says Honesti. “Couldn’t there be another way?”

  “Nope,” I say, making two fists. “With Aimee inside, the only way to find her is through those doors.”

  “She better be inside,” says Honesti.

  “She has to be,” says Bouncer. “You heard JT. Besides, the large guy walking in the front door is that hulky dude from Moser's class,” says Bouncer.

  “That’s right,” says Honesti. “He was with Zeke in the hospital. Remember, the guy from your math class?”

  Josh the hulk jogs up to Willowgate’s front doors in clothes two sizes too small. He hurries into the building.

  “How are you going to break in?” asks Honesti.

  “I’m not.” I groan.

  “What do you mean?” asks Bouncer.

  I abruptly walk toward the building. “I’m not sneaking around anymore. Screw it. I’m going in through the front door.”

  “Are you sure?” asks Honesti.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh hell, I was afraid of that,” says Bouncer.

  I open the glass front door and march into Willowgate’s lobby and outpatient entrance.

  Turpentine. Bleach. Florescent lights. Polished wood. Shiny floors. Bad memories blast my face like a summer wind, but the thought of rescuing Aimee keeps me focused.

  Scores of men and women in blue scrubs rush through the large lobby as if they’re late for a bus. A woman with shoulder-length black hair and dark eye makeup with “Ms. Weaver” on her nametag sits behind the front counter, working on paperwork. Miss Weaver’s bleached white teeth beam through her red lipstick like a spotlight. She shifts her attention from paperwork to me.

  “Welcome to Willowgate Psychiatric Hospital. How may I help you, young man?”

  I stand straight and try hard to contain my nerves. I need a good story to get past the guard sitting next to a locked door at the back of the lobby. If I raise her suspicions, I’ll never get past him.

  “Watch yourself,” says Honesti. "Easy does it."

  “Don’t trust the woman,” says Bouncer.

  “No kidding,” I reply.

  A crinkle appears above the bridge of Weaver’s slight nose. She doesn’t look like someone who’d be on Zeke’s daddy’s payroll. “Pardon me?”

  “Good morning, ma’am. A sixteen-year-old girl arrived here within the last twenty-four hours. She’s a good friend of my family. I’m here to visit her.”

  “That’s your plan?” asks Bouncer. “Really?”

  Honesti shushes Bouncer.

  “Oh?” Miss Weaver says, as her brow furrows. “Her name?”

  “Yes. Um, De—” I stammer, but quickly calm myself.

  Miss Weaver raises her voice. “Her name, young man?”

  I hesitate.

  Bouncer whistles the theme song that plays on the game show Jeopardy when a contestant tries to solve a question.

  “Stop it!” shouts Honesti.

  “Oh, um." I whisper. "Her name is De Lucca. Aimee De Lucca.”

  Miss Weaver takes in a long breath through her teeth and picks up a clipboard with a stack of papers attached. She licks a finger and flips through a few pages, then stops and taps something into her computer. “Huh. That name sounds so familiar. Let me try calling.”

  She picks up the phone and presses four numbers. “Did we admit a Miss Aimee De Lucca recently?”

  Ms. Weaver looks up at me and taps a red fingernail on her desk.

  A few seconds pass.

  “Right. Yes. Sure. Alright then.” She hangs up the phone.

  The door next to the security guard buzzes, prompting the guard to stand and open the door.

  Ms. Weaver points and nods to the guard. “Right through there, young man.”

  I’m shocked. It was way too easy. I’m in. “Thanks.”

  “That was simple,” says Honesti.

  “Yeah, too simple if you ask me,” says Bouncer.

  “Nobody is asking you,” says Honesti.

  “Stop,” I whisper under my breath, casually walking past the guard and through the doorway.

  A skinny man in blue scrubs with tied-back long hair greets me. “You’re here for Miss De Lucca?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Please, follow me.”

  The skinny guy and I proceed down a hallway to another security guard in a black
suit, white shirt, and black tie. The guard’s eyes search me. He gives the skinny dude a cool nod and allows us to pass.

  We continue to a silver elevator that looks new compared to the walls around it. Two husky men in dark suits stand on both sides of the elevator doors. They look uncomfortable, as if it was the first day they ever wore a suit.

  Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t figure out what. I’d do better exploring solo.

  “This ain’t right,” says Bouncer. "Something major is wrong, kid."

  “I agree,” adds Honesti.

  “Bolt!” shouts Bouncer.

  The elevator door opens just as I turn to run, but the two big guys block my escape. They grab each of my arms and drag me into the elevator.

  "Hey!" I scream. "What the hell are you doing?"

  A guy with long hair marches into the elevator. Another husky man with tattoos all over his bald head and down his neck reaches inside the elevator and presses a button.

  I try with all my strength to pull away from the two guys, but they aren’t about to let go of me. “What is going on?"

  “Shut your mouth,” the skinny guy replies as the elevator doors close. “Unless you want to die where you stand.”

  I struggle to breathe.

  I'm in deep shit. Think Reizo!

  After ten seconds, the elevator groans and stops with a thud. A loud chime rings and the doors open.

  “You’re in trouble,” says Honesti.

  “You gone,” says Bouncer.

  No! This can't be happening.

  Dr. Stewart is standing outside the open elevator with a blank expression on his face. His dark, beady eyes peer at me from behind thick-lensed glasses. “Welcome, Mr. Rush. We have been expecting you.”

  “Run!” Honesti yells.

  I try to push my way through them, but the two muscle-bound dudes hold me tight. I can't break out of the clamped-down grip. I'm hosed.

  “How is your mother?” Stewart asks, calmly. “Lovely woman, that one.”

  I pull away, but move barely an inch.

  The two jerks tighten their grip.

  “Where is Aimee? Where is she?”

  A thin-lipped grin stretches across Stewart’s face.

  “What have you done with her?” I shout.

  Stewart silently grabs my wrist with one hand and lifts up my sleeve with his other. He plants a needle into my arm.

  I grimace and collapse to my knees.

  The two hulks finally let go, but I’m in no shape to bolt with a warm tsunami racing through my veins.

  "Why?" I sneer at Stewart, my speech slurring. “Why are you doing this?”

  Stewart’s blue eyes bulge and his bony jaw tightens.

  He steps back and crosses his arms.

  “Sleep well, Mr. Rush.”

  chapter thirty-nine

  Drifting. In. Out. Blurs of white. Distant screams. I feel a hand on my face. I can’t focus.

  Then I see the wrinkled skin of an old woman’s face about three inches away. She holds one of my eyelids open with a thumb and flashes a light.

  I scream.

  The gray-haired woman takes a step back. She’s reeks of ancient perfume, too strong and too much. “Why hello, young lady. Don’t you get riled now.” She steps forward. “Everything ’ll be fine.”

  The woman forces me to sit up. She’s strong, too strong for me to fight with drugs pumping through my veins. She holds up a syringe and pushes out some moisture from its needle.

  Before I can object, she wipes my arm and sticks me with a needle. “Just relax now and let the tranquilizer work. It doesn’t help to fight it.” She shakes her head and adjusts my pillows. “Call me Miss Crowley. I’ll be your nurse while you’re in.”

  In where? Why is she grinning? I remember Zeke. The car. An earlier needle prick. I try to form words, but gibberish comes out.

  “It’s not often we get two transfers in twenty-four.” Miss Crowley’s voice is soft and kind.

  I want to object, to scream out, but I can’t. Everything is moving in slow motion. Two transfers?

  “Now, now, Miss Young.”

  I manage to grunt out words. “Name . . . not . . . Young.”

  “Oh my. I hear that all the time. You’ll be just fine. Don’t you worry. Dr. Stewart says it’s true, so it’s true. You’re a little confused is all. He’s planning a therapy regiment for you, little darlin’. Only the best for Miss Young.” She chuckles.

  Dr. Stewart? Therapy plan?

  I struggle to form words, painfully forcing one out at a time. “Shouldn’t . . . be . . . here.”

  “Oh don't you worry now.” Miss Crowley winks.

  I rub my face, then my head. “But . . . I . . . really—” I scream and pull at my hair.

  My hair! It’s gone. It feels like I have a pixy cut.

  Oh, no! Everything is moving in slow motion. I push my face into my hands and sob. Two transfers? They must have Reizo too. I fall backwards onto a pillow and stare up at dangling florescent lights.

  After a few seconds, I try to sit up, but my body won’t move. I can’t even move my fingers. Distant mumbles. I’m floating. My eyelids are heavy, too heavy. I try to keep them open, but it’s way too hard.

  I give in.

  chapter forty

  Brightly lit block walls covered in cracked white paint surround me.

  My mind is foggy at first, but when I see a gray door with a small, one-foot square wire-meshed window, I know where I am. Willowgate.

  “Reizo!” yells Honesti.

  “Wake up!” yells Bouncer. “Stupid plan.”

  “You’re in trouble!” shouts Honesti.

  I sit up and grab my head. “Stop . . . yelling!”

  They stop.

  “Give a second. Let me think.” I start to brush my hair back with my fingers, but stop. Oh no. My heart skips and then restarts all at once. “No!”

  “Oh no,” says Honesti.

  “Shit! My hair! They buzzed me!”

  “Bummers, it was cool long,” says Bouncer.

  “It’ll itch,” says Honesti.

  “Your brain bucket ain’t round either, brother man,” says Bouncer.

  “Seriously sad,” says Honesti. “But get it together. Hair will grow back.”

  “It won’t if he’s dead,” says Bouncer.

  “Ah man.” I scratch my stubby head, grinding my teeth.

  “Will you both shut up for a minute?”

  “They probably cut it so no one would recognize you,” whispers Honesti.

  The terror of being locked up at the one place I swore I’d never see again trumps concern over my shaved head. Stewart must be working with Zeke. It makes sense. Willowgate is the perfect place to prepare drugs and hide two people Zeke wants to disappear until he can dispose of them. Bastard.

  “Someone is coming,” says Bouncer.

  “Lay back!” shouts Honesti.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and put my buzzed head on the cold pillow as the door opens.

  A woman walks in singing a church song, “up on the mountain...”

  I open my eyes and squint.

  A thin old woman with curly gray hair and “Nurse Crowley” on a nametag is busy organizing sheets and folding towels. She glances at me. “Welcome back, Mr. Reed from Bama.”

  Mr. Reed? Bama?

  I sit up. “Reed?”

  “Don’t happen often, but seems like every place outside Franklinville is filling up these days. Two transfers in twenty-four, increases my workload in one day.”

  Reed? Two transfers? Me. Ames?

  I consider telling her I’d been kidnaped, but I’m not sure if I can trust the woman. The situation feels impossible. Worse than I imagined. From previous lock-ups at Willowgate, I remember the staff’s mission: “Do as directed, keep patients calm, and don’t believe anything the guests say.”

  Zeke must have committed us under fake names—we’re not from Franklinville, as far as the staff is conc
erned. I’m pretty sure there’s no way the nurse will believe anything I tell her.

  Flash backs of previous visits at Willowgate hit me all at once. Stun guns. Pepper spray. Taser electrodes. Shocking pulses of electricity boiling my blood. Wiping out my short-term memory. Flexed muscles—twisting and frozen.

  I want to scream, but I can’t afford to freak.

  Ames needs me to stay calm to get us out of Willowgate before Zeke kills us.

  “Your hazel eyes sure look familiar,” says Nurse Crowley. “But Dr. Stewart told me it’s your first time with us. Guess I need a day off, I suppose. Oh lord. Ain’t that the truth . . . Let’s see now.”

  She scans papers on a clipboard. “One shot a day. Huh. I suppose Dr. Stewart wants to keep you sedated for now until he can examine you. Says here he’ll prescribe regular meds after your psych review. A bit unusual, but he’s the doctor in charge.”

  Nurse Crowley removes a prefilled syringe from a large metal box and rips open a small alcohol pad. “Will ya be nice for Nurse Crowley? I really would hate to bother Dmitry. That man can be rough when he holds folks down, don’t ya know. Oh my, yes he can. If I need Dmitry one time, I’ll have to use him every time. That’s how it works here, ya know.”

  At first I’m going to fight her, but a large dude filling the doorway makes me think twice. Dimity is printed on his nametag. I’ll have to wait to make a move.

  I nod and force a smile.

  “Excellent.” She wipes my arm and sticks me with the needle.

  “Impressive,” whispers Bouncer. “I hate needles.”

  Honesti shushes him.

  I decide I need to be her best patient, at least until I can come up with a plan to escape and find Aimee. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Why sure, young man. Now get some rest, ya hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Excellent,” the thin old woman says. “I just know you’re going to be one of my best patients. Aren’t you now?”

  I nod again and fall back onto a pillow. The tranquilizer is working fast. My eyes are already heavy.

  “Dr. Stewart will visit in a few days. He’ll set up your meds after he meets with you, then I’ll stop these darn once-a-day shots. For now, get some rest. We’ll wake you later for Hoecakes. You’ll like them.”

  Nurse Crowley points to the small no-door bathroom with no sink and no shower. “You’re lucky. Got you a private room. Most the other rooms have two, four, or eight beds. Most have roommates. The other rooms even require us to unlock the bathroom. Yours don’t have a door. But I’ll need Dmitry to help you shower down the hall when you want one.”

  Hell no. I don’t plan on being at Willowgate long enough to shower.

  “Sorry, young mister,” Nurse Crowley says as she walks out of the room. “You’ll need to stay in your room for now. Doctor don’t want you mingling.”