Locked In: No Way Out Series - Book One

by Ryan, Shari J.

  "What is that?" she asks.

  "My head, please," I say, although it comes out more as a growl.

  "It looked like directions. Do you know how to get out of here?" she asks.

  It's the question I've asked myself hundreds of times, yet the only information Mom left for me makes no goddamn sense.

  "No. Just, Jesus, can you help me or not?" She presses on my shoulders, forcing me to sit in front of her feet. She squats down behind me and I can feel her eyes inspecting whatever the damage must look like. It can't be good if she's looking at it as long as she is. "Am I dying, or what?"

  "It's infected," she says quietly. I can't say I'm surprised. The ache has been running down my back for hours, but I've done my best to ignore it. Being inside of her made forgetting about it pretty easy. Although I think if I suggested that as a quick fix right now, she'd probably just call me an asshole again. "This is going to hurt."

  "It already hurts," I remind her.

  "It's going to hurt more," she says, obviously needing the last word.

  "Do what you need to do." She takes the small bottle of rubbing alcohol I threw in my bag and pours it over my head. Every nerve in my head feels like it's in shock or on fire, and dammit to hell, I can't even remember my name right now.

  Although regardless of not being able to think straight, I sure as hell feel the needle piercing back through my skin again. "Just tightening it back up."

  "Wasn't it already tight?" Jesus. I'm shrieking like a girl at this point and if the circumstances were different, she'd be laughing at me for reacting this way. Shit, that hurt. "Are you done?"

  "Yes, you big baby," she says, blowing on the spot gently. My body can't take much more of the dizzying sensations hitting my skin right now.

  "Just stop, please. Thank you." I stand back up, feeling out of sorts again. This has to stop. I did not need this. We didn't even get much food out of it and we're both starved nearly to death at this point. We need to find something to hunt, which is why we need to keep walking. The prisoners have cleared this place of any animal years ago. The only place we have any hopes of finding anything is at least fifteen miles from here, and I don't know if I can even make it that far at this point.

  She puts the medical supplies back inside my bag, zips it up and hands it over to me. "Sorry for going through your stuff. I shouldn't have."

  Great. Now I'm the ass. "It's fine."

  She takes her bag and places her pistol into her pocket.

  "Is the safety on?" I ask, and she looks at me with confusion. I guess that means she wasn't actually a murderer before finding herself condemned to this place. I reach into her pocket and pull the pistol back out. "See this?" I point to the safety switch, showing her how to lock it in. Looking embarrassed, she takes the pistol from my hand and slips it back into her pocket.

  "So, it's at least a fifteen mile walk, , but I'm hoping we'll find food and water there."

  "Hoping?" she replies.

  "There are no guarantees here, Reese. I think you've learned that over the past couple of days. All we can do is cross our fingers and hope for the best right now." I begin walking alongside the dam in the direction away from the main camp. I hear her following in my footsteps and I'm gathering she doesn't want to talk too much. She's probably regretting everything that just happened between us. I took her virginity and she's probably sore and shit. Plus, I'm acting like a dick. Is there really any other way to act here, though? I reach my hand back to her, waiting for her to succumb to my assholeness. A minute passes, but I still hold my hand out, waiting for her to take it.

  She finally slips her small hand into mine and grips her fingers around mine. Without much to say, I bring her knuckles up to my lips and kiss her gently. I hear a sigh of relief expel from her and I pull her into me. "I'm sorry," I say. I don't know why I said sorry or even what I'm really apologizing for, but it felt like something I needed to say.

  "I didn't know you were capable of speaking such a poisonous word," she replies under breath.

  "I'm capable of more than you give me credit for," I remind her. "Look, Reese." I stop walking and bring her in front of me. "We haven't had much water and hardly anything to eat in days. I've got an infection and—"

  "What are you saying?" she snaps. "You promised me we were going to make it out of here, Sin. You promised me. That's why I'm here with you. I was ready to give up days ago. I was ready to give up in the shed, actually. Do you know how many times I tried to…to—"

  "To what?" I growl.

  "End it all. The pain. The starvation. The thirst. Did you know a person can go a couple of weeks without eating or drinking before—before your body shuts down? I do. I know this because I tried it. At the end of it all, during the days I started hallucinating and wondering how long I would have to lie in the middle of the cold, wooden ground, waiting to die. And then I realized I couldn't sit there waiting for it to happen, so I began to eat the rations I had stored. I made myself sick for a week after. I thought my stomach was going to explode or implode—I couldn't determine what I was feeling. I just thought I was going to actually die from eating due to whatever damage I must have caused while I was trying to starve myself to death."

  I can't get mad at her. I did my own stupid shit. Locked in a dark cell, with no light, I tried to convince myself I was dead a number of times, hoping it was just true. It never was. It made me feel crazier by the day. "I get it."

  "So don't sit here and give me your stupid death warnings because neither of us are dying here. We would have already died if that was our destiny. So, sorry, you're stuck with me, and you're stuck with your stupid hot body and your even stupider cocky personality. Suck it up, Sin. We're finding food and water, and then we're getting the hell out of here."

  I can't help the small smile biting at my cheeks. I don't know why this girl was brought here, but with as many shitty hands that life has dealt me, I sort of won the royal flush with her. I continue pulling her ahead into the blinding sunlight.

  "Do the prisoners come down this far?" she asks as we turn a slight bend in the path.

  "Not usually. Why?"

  "Do you know who that is?" she asks, pointing up at the tree.

  17

  Chapter Five

  Reese

  THREE YEARS AGO

  "I'll be home at six tonight, Reese," Mom shouts into my bedroom. "Just a short shift today."

  "See ya later," I yell back. A short shift for mom is nine hours. I wouldn't call her a work-a-holic, but she's a devoted nurse who loves what she does. Now that it's summer and school and soccer are over for a few months, she's picked up some more shifts. I do think she overdoes it, but she shoos me off when I tell her that. I try my best to pull my weight around here and help out. I babysit every morning and the family pays me pretty well, so it's enough to take some of the burdens off of us at least. Mom and I are more like friends than we are mother and daughter, but it's because we've been in this survival thing together since Dad died. She needs me just as much as I need her. Dad's death forced me to grow up much quicker than I probably should have, but that's life.

  I head into the kitchen to make myself breakfast, finding Mom's lunch bag sitting next to the gallon of milk. Crap. I don't know what's with this hospital she works at now—most of the time it's like it’s an empty shell filled with no more than thirty patients. There's no cafeteria there or any place to grab food. And of course, it's a bit of a walk to the grocery store—too long to make it there and back during a break. We don't have a working car anymore, so we walk everywhere. Thankfully, we are only a fifteen-minute walk from the hospital.

  I have to bring this down to her or she won't eat today. With her diabetes, she can't go without lunch and she wouldn't dare to test that awful boss of hers with an extended break. He'd probably fire her on the spot. This guy, Jackson Crownwell, is supposedly the wealthiest man in this county—he owns both hospitals and a bunch of local shops and office buildings here. He's sort of like the mayo
r I guess, but our town doesn't have a large enough population for a mayor—or that's what I've been told anyway. It doesn't make much sense to me. Any time I've asked questions, Mom usually just says it's politics and not to worry about it. So, I don't.

  I pour myself a small bowl of cereal and eat it quickly so I can get down to the hospital. I debate calling her at work to let her know I'm coming, but she may get in trouble for taking a non-emergency call during her shift. It's best if I just slip in and out before anyone sees me. She'll have her lunch and I'll have some peace-of-mind.

  I step outside, lifting my face up to the sun, still appreciating it after living here for seven years. Before Dad died, we lived up in Washington. It was always raining, dark and kind of gloomy. We lived there because of Dad's job at Microsoft, so we didn't have much say about our distaste for the climate. After he died, Mom took a dive into a funk. She was miserable and depressed, as was I. Dad was everything to us. He supported us and cared for us so we wouldn't ever have to worry about needing or wanting anything. He took pride in giving us a good life. Regardless of how much financial planning he did for our family, though, it was all taken from us when he was in the car accident on his way home from work one night. He was in a coma for six months and needed multiple surgeries. Mom cleaned out the bank accounts at the chance of keeping him alive, but in the end, it just wasn't enough. Anyway, we had no reason to stay living in the rainy state, so we moved down to a more affordable and sunny location in Oklahoma. With Dad's life insurance money, Mom bought us a tiny house and went back to school so she could support the two of us. It was a wise investment, but the money ran out quickly and she fell into a pile of debt, which is why everything she makes now basically goes to her credit card and loan payments. Life dumped on us. Still, Mom developed a new outlook and pushed through our troubles with a smile, constantly reminding me that life will get better. I believe her. I have to. I want her to be happy again. A real kind of happy. Not the fake kind she portrays for my sake.

  I walk through the dirt lot of the hospital and up to the front doors, noticing how little the grounds have been cared for lately. I haven't been here in a few months, but it looks like they kind of let the place go a little, which is strange. Mr. Crownwell is usually on top of all this. After all, he has an image to maintain.

  I walk up to the front desk, finding Miss Amy, the receptionist, where she usually is. I will say, this hospital has had basically no turnover since Mom started working here five years ago. "Reese Pieces, how is my favorite young lady?" she squeaks, running out from around the desk and wrapping her arms around my neck. Miss Amy is about sixty, old enough to be my grandmother. She's a vibrant woman, full of energy and always has a smile on her face. Her hair looks a little grayer than the last time I saw her and she's wearing a touch more makeup than usual; although her dark red lipstick is something that has always been constant with her. It makes her teeth extra white and her smile large. "Are you here to see your mama?"

  "She forgot her lunch today and I didn't want her blood sugar levels to crash."

  "You are such a sweet young lady. Your mama sure is lucky to you have you as a daughter." She pats me on the head and returns to the back of her desk. "Let me see if I can locate her for you." She searches through the computer for a minute and lifts up the receiver on the phone. "Paging Laura Daniels. Could you please come to the front desk," I hear Miss Amy's voice boom through the speakers in the hall.

  It takes a couple of minutes but the front desk phone rings and Miss Amy quickly picks up the call. "Is that her?" I whisper.

  Miss Amy nods her head with a small smile and holds up a finger. "No problem, Laura." She hangs up the phone and hands me a guest badge. "Go on up to the third floor. She's at the nurses’ station there."

  I decide to take the stairs up the three flights since the elevators are notoriously known for being super slow. I don't like being here. Maybe I don't have the natural born instinct Mom has to help people get better, and it might be because of the combined scent of bleach and ammonia. The smells and the sounds here always make me feel a little ill.

  I'm breathless by the time I reach the third floor, and I approach the nurses' station just as Mom is running in the opposite direction. "Reese, honey, wait right there, I'll be back in one minute. There's an emergency."

  There are no other nurses at the desk, which is unusual since there are typically four or five sitting here. After a minute or two, one of the nurses comes back and sits down behind the desk. "Hi, Reese!" she says, sounding a little breathless herself. "Everything okay?"

  "Hi, Sunny. Yeah, Mom forgot her lunch, so I figured I'd bring it by."

  "Such a sweetie," she says. "Your mom should be back in just a minute. We have a little situation with one of our patients today."

  "Oh. I hope everything is okay," I tell her, suddenly curious as to what's going on.

  Her lips pull into an unsettled grimace. "Not exactly. One of our patients who has been here for the past two years became—" she leans over the counter to come closer to me, "unruly today. We were supposed to release him, but after a departing conversation with Mr. Crownwell, I guess he—well, he tried to—" she places her hand up by her mouth, and in a whisper says, "kill him." She shakes her head with disappointment. "He's just a kid too, maybe only a couple years older than you. He was very troubled and sick, though. He was accused of some very volatile actions, but as a minor, we treated him and thought he was well enough to be released into a youth probation program. That was until he attacked Mr. Crownwell today. I'm not sure what will happen to him now."

  My eyebrows scrunch together, curious as to what she's going to say. "What did he do to be placed here in the first place? What volatile actions?" I prompt her to continue.

  "Nothing. It's nothing for you to worry about, honey. Your Mom will be back in just a minute." Just as she finishes her sentence, I hear a struggle down the hall. I hear groaning or grunting, I'm not sure which. "Reese, why don't you come stand here behind the desk with me." I do as she says, unsure of what's happening. I don't make it completely behind the desk before I see five nurses escorting a patient down the hall. The patient is not exactly struggling against them, but he looks like he's in some type of pain.

  "I didn't do anything," he yells at one of them. "Where are you bringing me?" None of the nurses respond. There are handcuffs around his wrists and he's in a hospital gown. He's looking right at me as he approaches the nurses' desk. For a minute, I feel frozen with fear because of the way he's looking at me. But as he comes closer, I see that it isn't a frightening look, it's a pleading look.

  "Help me," he says to me. A striking pain runs through my chest, feeling remorse for this boy I've never seen before. It seems like whatever he's being blamed for might be wrong. I don't know the actual reason he's here or where he's going, but he looks scared. Although I realize the people in this hospital are mentally ill, I can't help wondering how ill this boy is or if he deserves whatever it is they're doing to him. He doesn't exactly look sick. He just looks hurt. His eyes are large and sky blue with a pleading look clouding over his gaze. And he won't take his eyes off of me.

  "We should help him!" I tell the nurses. "Where are you taking him?"

  No one answers me. Where's Mom? She'd help him. I need to find her. "Reese, you should stay here," Sunny says softly, as if she could hear my thoughts.

  "What are they doing to him?" This hospital has always been a place to help those who can't help themselves, and this doesn't seem right to me. Unruly patients fight back, they cuss at the nurses and they have hatred in their eyes. This boy has none of those characteristics.

  Ignoring Sunny, I run down the hall, looking in every room for Mom. Halfway down the hall, I finally hear her voice, but then everything goes quiet. Where is she? I continue looking in every room until I reach the end of the hall. I peer into the last patient's room and find a man standing in front of the bed with his hands on his head. He looks very upset. I realize I'm staring when he loo
ks up at me. "Who are you?" he asks.

  "I—uh—I'm Nurse Daniel's daughter."

  "Oh, are you?" he says with an angry lilt. Without much warning, he moves across the room quickly and takes me by the arm. "Then, I don't like you."

  "You don't even know me," I say nervously. "Let go of me!"

  "His lips curl into a snarl and he wraps his arms around me tightly, holding his hand over my mouth, keeping me from screaming. His hand is so large; he's partially covering my vision as well. My feet are no longer touching the ground and he's taking me down the back stairwell. He's running down the stairs so fast, I feel like we both might fall. Panic is rushing through me and I don't know what's happening. I've never been this scared. I live in a safe town. I live among friendly people.

  The second we exit the hospital and the sun beats down on us, I see a van in front of us—a white van with no windows. I hear the doors unlock and the man opens the trunk door. He tosses me inside and I hit my head against metal inside of the van. He climbs in after me and hovers over me, glaring at me with a look of what can only be described as death. Shaking and scared, I plead for him to release me, but I feel a needle puncturing the skin below my shoulder.

  Everything becomes dark. The door of the van slams shut and the panic within me calms. I think I'm falling asleep.

  18

  Chapter Six

  SIN

  It's been years since I've seen him—the man in in the tree. Clearly, not much has changed. "Yeah, I know who he is." I mean, I haven't actually spoken to him before, mostly because I don't think he speaks. I've only heard the rumors of what he did to land himself in the hospital years ago. Unless someone offers up the information on himself or herself here, we're not given much info on our fellow inmates. He was already in Chipley when I got here.