Oblivion - Debt Collector 13 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “Listen, things got out of hand, I’ll admit that. I understand you’re concerned for Mr. Winchester but let me remind you that Winchester is responsible for overwhelming a security guard, brutally attacking two of our psych techs and showing a level of violence that we simply will not, and cannot tolerate at Holbrook. There are consequences.”

  “Consequences? Consequences!?” she repeated herself, louder this time. “You mean throwing him in a steam cabinet, submerging him in ice-cold water and beating him. That’s what you call consequences? What happened to patient’s rights? What happened to…”

  “Ms. Cross. Lower your voice!”

  She jabbed her finger at him. “I will not. I think the director of this hospital needs to be made aware of what is happening. More specifically the harm that is being brought to patients. And that doesn’t even touch upon the accusation of drug distribution. You want to speak to that?”

  Chapman eyeballed her as he came around his desk and ushered Morgan and Seth out. Cross protested. “They are here to stay.”

  “Gentlemen, you can go back to your duties. Nurse Cross and I have a few matters to discuss in private.”

  “Anything you need to say can be said in front of them.”

  He turned on a dime and spoke through gritted teeth. “For your sake, I would disagree.” He pursed his lips as he urged them out. Seth glanced at Hanna and she reluctantly nodded. Once they were gone, Chapman closed the door and brought down a blind. He walked over to her and got up in her face in a hushed voice. “You ever embarrass me in front of my staff again, I will have your job. Do you understand?”

  She scoffed. “Your staff? I think you’ve been here far too long,” Cross said.

  “And I think you are overstepping the line. Now I’ve warned you twice, I won’t do it a third time, Nurse Cross. Now take a seat and we will discuss this like professionals.” He pulled out a chair and urged her to sit. She stood there defiant. “Sit!” he bellowed. Although she didn’t want to, she complied if only to continue the conversation.

  Although his body had been put through the wringer, there was nothing to give the paramedics cause for alarm. He was released into the care of the RNs on shift with guidelines to monitor him. Assisted back into dry clothes, he was placed in seclusion once again. This time, however, they didn’t perform a five-point restraint.

  With the head nurse unavailable, Caroline Byrd took charge and saw to it that he was comfortable while she administered a mild sedative. “That should kick in soon.” For someone who had attempted to escape he was being treated unusually well. Minutes after she left the room, Bryan French, the psychologist for the unit, entered with a tablet, and an envelope in hand. He told the hospital cops stationed outside that he didn’t need them in the room as he wouldn’t be long. There was some back and forth, a muffled discussion before they agreed.

  French stood nearby observing him as Jack lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling.

  “I see you’ve had quite the day.”

  Jack didn’t reply. He had mixed emotions. Anger. Disappointment. It all swirled together, a mixture of rage and bitterness at the establishment, Angelo, and life. “I understand your drive to escape, Jack. You’re not the first to make an attempt nor will you be the last.” He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. “But the harder you push, the harder they push back. You’ve got to flow with this place. It’s easier that way. And trust me, when you’ve been here as long as some of these residents, you don’t want to be in here every day.”

  Nothing. He remained quiet.

  “Pastor Boone wanted me to give you this. We usually wouldn’t after what’s happened but I figure it might be a letter of support, and right now that’s probably what you need.” He set a blue envelope on Jack’s chest. He looked at it but didn’t touch it. “If there is anything you want to talk about, you know where my office is.” He nodded a few times and then exited leaving Jack alone.

  He glanced at the envelope again, then his eyes darted to the door before he sat up and thumbed it open. Inside was a small, folded white note. He opened it and his eyes saw that it was signed by Dalton. Quickly, he scanned from top to bottom, stopping only when Dalton broke the news of Dana’s death and potential resting place, at the bottom of a river or lake.

  He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing down his emotion, and everything he felt for her. Despite what some might have thought, every second since that crash had been agony. The not knowing. Even though he believed she was dead after seeing her face in that vehicle, he didn’t know that she had been unconscious when they dragged him away. To hear that she had bled out only angered him more.

  The letter validated what he believed to be true. With so many meds pumping through his veins every day and dealing with crazies, he had started to convince himself that perhaps she hadn’t died, and that maybe he was responsible for the Lewis murders.

  Then this.

  Although many had lied to him, he could always rely on Dalton for the truth.

  There, at the bottom of the letter was a phone number, and the name of a pizzeria in New Jersey. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the places. It had meaning to him, to Angelo, to many of the kids on the block. Romano’s Pizzeria was where he first met Angelo. Like many others drawn into Gafino’s world at a young age, Angelo had been the catalyst for Jack.

  Jack lay back on the bed, staring at the number.

  Angelo was back in New Jersey.

  Back on his home turf.

  Jack closed his eyes and drifted to his youth, to better days when Angelo was different, before his father tainted him, destroyed what was good about the kid. Before he ruined them both.

  Three days Jack was kept in isolation. Far longer than before. Far longer than what was typical. Twenty-four hours was the norm. He knew it was being used as a form of punishment. It was only meant to be used temporarily in emergencies when patients were a danger to themselves or others. Although not being restrained was new, but he soon came to learn that he had Nurse Cross to thank for that. In that time he never saw Jenkins or Porter. Seth visited with his food, and he had frequent visits from the psychologist. He paced back and forth, did push-ups to keep himself strong and planned out what he would do to Angelo once he got out.

  On the morning of his release, a large number of patients rose from their tables and applauded him. Crazy or not, somewhere buried inside there was a part of them that wanted to be free, and anyone who had the balls to try and break out was treated like a hero.

  “All right, settle down!” Jenkins said, appearing in the doorway.

  For a brief moment, Jack thought he’d been fired. Unfortunately not. He glanced at Jack and glared. Jack took a seat with his group, tossing his tray down and sliding in beside Edgar. “You seen Mack?”

  “Mack?”

  “Rocket Man.”

  “Oh him. Yeah. Earlier. He thought you’d get out.”

  “The exit was blocked. Wanted to find out if he knew about it.”

  “I don’t think he would have sent you down if he had,” Cowboy said. Jack scooped up some oatmeal that was like water and stared at him.

  “Why didn’t you go when you had the chance?”

  Cowboy shook his head. “Out there they can get at me.”

  “Right. The CIA.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Yeah, like Harry over there is telling the truth about being God, or James is telling the truth about seeing ants everywhere.” Jack tapped his temple. “It’s all in your head, Cowboy.”

  “It’s not.” He got up and changed tables.

  “You shouldn’t rile him up. It’s not his fault,” Edgar said.

  Jack gritted his teeth. “I was this close. This close to getting out of here, Edgar,” Jack said. “I could see the light from the moon reflecting off the water at the exit.” He sighed and shook his head. “Now I’ve got to find another way out.”

  Edgar cast him a sideways glance and frowned. “You’re gonna try again?
Are you out of your mind?”

  “Apparently so, according to the court system.” He shoveled away more of his oatmeal.

  “But after what they did to you. You want to go through that again? There is no way I could handle that. I would rather die than be stuck in isolation. I nearly lost my mind last time they put me in there.”

  He chuckled as he glanced over at Jenkins who was eyeballing him. “You honestly think doing nothing is going to keep me out of harm’s way? No, I need out.”

  “How then? That was the only way out,” Edgar replied.

  “Only known way out. There’s always another way.” He tapped his spoon in the air. “I’ve just got to find it.”

  A tray hit the ground.

  A line of patients cleared the way as Tyler Sutton pushed his way to the front of the line.

  Edgar sneered. “Man, that guy’s an asshole.”

  “Yeah, well don’t you go saying that to his face or he’s liable to rip you a new one,” Jack said.

  “Ah, I’m not afraid of him. Here, watch this…” Edgar got up with his tray and strolled up to the area where patients emptied their trash. He lingered for a few seconds, taking a couple of items and tossing them in the garbage. Then as Sutton turned out of the line and went to walk by him, Edgar turned fast knocking his entire tray and Sutton’s all over him. Milk, wet oatmeal, jam, the whole lot ended up on Sutton. He looked down, his face turning a beet red.

  “Oh man, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” Edgar said, a smirk forming as he walked back to the table. Sutton balled his fists and charged over but Seth stepped in and stopped him before anything came of it.

  “Are you serious?” Jack asked. “Didn’t you hear anything I said?”

  “No, I’m crazy, don’t you remember?” He burst out laughing and slapped Jack on the back. All the while Sutton looked over, glaring as he was led back to clean up the mess.

  Chapman gazed down at the courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back, his mind lost in the past. At one time he called the shots and no one questioned him. Then Nurse Harvey came along, strutting her stuff, acting like she knew what was best. Getting rid of her was meant to provide relief and all it had done was create more headaches. Now he had Nurse Cross to deal with and she was even worse than Harvey.

  “I can’t believe you two,” he said to Jenkins and Porter. “I gave you strict instructions.”

  “How were we to know?”

  “Timing, Jenkins. It’s all about timing. Had you dragged him out of his room at night no one would have known but dragging him down there after an attempted escape? What did you expect?”

  Jenkins glanced at Porter.

  Chapman was tired of dealing with imbeciles. “Anyway, they know too much. Sutton is getting sloppy. Find out what Seth knows and get him onboard or deal with it.”

  “And Cross?” Porter asked.

  “Leave her to me.”

  17

  Later that evening at the end of his shift, Seth slipped out of his work clothing and tucked it into his locker. Three months working for Holbrook and the job never got any easier. He’d come into it with all the best intentions. He’d heard the horror stories of psych techs being punched in the face, spat at, strangled, and winding up in the ER with a bloody face only to quit upon discharge. Dropout rates were high, PTSD even higher. And yet despite it all, he still believed deep down that he could make a difference.

  He was slipping into a pair of jeans, his mind focused on how he was going to spend the rest of the evening, when they walked in. “Hey, Seth.” Jenkins and Porter strolled into the changing room. “At the end of your shift?”

  “All done for the day, yeah. Wassup?” He continued to change, tying his shoelaces as he sat on a bench between rows of metal lockers.

  “You’ve been working here a while now. What, like four months?” Jenkins asked.

  “Three.”

  He pulled a face and nodded. Jenkins put a foot on the bench and rested his forearms on his knee as he talked to him. “How you finding it?”

  “It’s all right. It has its moments.” He glanced at him wondering why he was even having a conversation with him. In all the time he’d worked there, the two of them had practically ignored him unless they were required to restrain a patient.

  “That it does. Still, the pay isn’t too great, is it?”

  Porter opened his locker and took out his civilian clothing and then proceeded to remove his scrubs. “Ah, it is what it is,” Seth said. He was right, the annual pay wasn’t that great. While it varied based on experience, they could make anywhere from twenty-four to thirty-five bucks an hour. Nothing to call home about, and certainly better than minimum wage, but it still meant that there were months when he was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

  “What if you could make some extra money?”

  By the tone of his voice and the way Jenkins looked over his shoulder, he got a sense that whatever he had in mind wasn’t on the up and up.

  “I’m already pulling forty hours a week plus overtime. I’m not sure I could fit any more into my week.” He hurried up getting dressed to end the conversation. He didn’t even want to know what they had in mind.

  “What if you didn’t need to do any more hours?”

  Call it curiosity, or a desire to know what Jenkins was up to, Seth took the bait. “What you got in mind?”

  If the conversation didn’t make him nervous enough, Jenkins grinned and tapped Porter who walked over to the changing room door and locked it. “This is between us. It doesn’t go any further than this room. You understand?”

  Seth nodded as he slipped into his outdoor jacket, the final piece clothing.

  Jenkins reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie and dangled it in front of him.

  “Contraband?” Seth asked.

  “That right there is an extra hundred in your pocket. There are fifteen units in this facility, tons of patients. This place is ripe pickings. You wouldn’t just be focusing on the sixty guys in our unit but slipping into other units. What you see right here could mean an extra few thousand in your hands by the end of the month.” He looked at Porter then back at Seth. “Now I don’t know about you, but I think that could go a long way to paying your bills, taking your girl out or saving up for whatever it is you need. You feel me?”

  “That’s illegal.”

  Jenkins chuckled. “Seth. Contraband makes its way into this facility every day. You’re never going to stop it so you might as well profit from it, you understand?”

  Seth took a few steps back and scooped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I know Dr. Chapman wouldn’t be too happy knowing you’re doing that.”

  He laughed. “How the hell do you think this shit makes it in here?”

  Seth’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. “Bullshit. Chapman would never get involved with something like that. He’s the cornerstone of this establishment.”

  He brushed past Jenkins, heading for the door.

  “Damn right he is. That’s why he wanted us to chat with you, bring you on board, so we can expand our little enterprise. We can’t be here every day and neither can you but together… well… the sky’s the limit.”

  Seth turned back to them both. “These people are in here because they have issues.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  “You’re not helping. That shit only makes things worse. I didn’t take this job to make lives worse. I’m here to help. Now I’m willing to turn a blind eye to this but I don’t want to see you selling that shit again or even mentioning it to me.”

  As he approached the door, Porter stood in his way.

  “Move,” Seth said in an aggressive tone.

  Jenkins wandered over. “Like I told you, Seth. This doesn’t go beyond this room. Now you are either in or you are out.”

  “Then I’m out. And Chapman will hear about this. Now get the fuck out of my way,” he said trying to forcefully push Porter to one side.

  �
�That’s unfortunate, I had a feeling you would say that.”

  Before he had a chance to see it coming, Jenkins clubbed him in the face with a baton. Seth went down hard, his head bounced off the tiled floor. Jenkins loomed over him blocking out the fluorescent light. “Now I’m gonna give you one last chance. This isn’t a question. You are going to distribute or—”

  Before Jenkins could finish, Seth reacted, driving his foot into his knee, then kicking him in the face. He scrambled to his feet only to be tackled by Porter who drove him into the lockers. Their bodies slammed against the metal nearly causing an entire row to topple over. Porter drove a knee into his gut, making him heave. A sharp blow to the right side of his face rocked him and sent him down. He tried to reach his bag which had his tag inside. If he could pull that, the alarm system would go off and hospital cops and staff would come to his aid. Crawling across the floor, blood trickling down his face, he felt a hard blow to his back, this time from Jenkins who was back up and even more angry than before.

  He stomped him multiple times before kicking him in the head.

  Porter sat on his legs while Jenkins continued his brutal attack, pounding his skull against the hard floor until he lost consciousness.

  When he came to, his head was throbbing, he couldn’t see out of one eye as it had swollen shut and he was being dragged across the floor. “That’s it, bring him over here,” Jenkins said. Seth groaned and wanted to fight back but he no longer had it in him. Every few seconds he would black out, then come to and hear them talking. An argument ensued between Jenkins and Porter over what to do with him. What he heard next terrified him. He clawed forward, blood smearing the tiles in one final attempt to escape.