Asleep

by Krystal Wade

  “See? Even she’s agreed to be calm with me.”

  Dr. Underwood’s chin quivered when he looked at Rose, as if he’d lost something, as if he’d broken. He dropped his shoulders and backed away. “Okay. Okay, but stay away from her arms. That sliver of wood she’s holding could do some damage we’re not equipped to fix. We’ll be at the window if anything goes wrong.”

  Thomas cracked his knuckles just for emphasis, and Martin rolled his eyes as they all left the room.

  Rose took a deep, gasping breath, as if she’d held it the entire time they occupied her space.

  Nurse Judy hurried across the floor and wrapped her arm around Rose. “Drop that and let’s go to the bathroom where we can have some peace and privacy.”

  “You trust me?”

  The nurse kissed Rose’s temple. “You didn’t hurt me that first day you arrived, and I know you aren’t going to hurt me now. You’re afraid, but not of me.”

  Sobs tried to break free of Rose’s chest, but she held them back. She held it all in. No crying. No heat in her face. Just a resolved anger at the man who enjoyed playing with her life.

  Nurse Judy guided Rose to sit on the toilet lid, then knelt before her and took hold of her hands. “I listened to you the other day, everything you said, Rose. I want to help you. I want to believe you. But before you give me any time to do research, you keep getting yourself into trouble. You can’t expect me to figure anything out when I keep getting called down here to baby sit or drug you more.”

  “Who’s Heather Shepperd?” Rose squeezed the nurse’s hands. She had to know the answer to this. Had to as if she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she knew the answer. “Please. She was my mother’s best friend. I know she was an artist. I know that Dr. Underwood feels partly responsible for her death, or like he should have been around longer to use his techniques to cure her, that he has some personal connection to her, that he thinks I’m like her, but who was she to him? My mother never mentioned a brother or cousin or whatever he is.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, Nurse Judy duck-walked closer to Rose so that only a millimeter of space existed between them. “I’ll tell you what, you stop getting yourself into trouble for two days, two days, Rose, and let me find out if that’s important. Because if it’s not, darling, then it truly is none of your business who Heather Shepperd was to Dr. Underwood. Do you think that’s fair?”

  Suffocating. Rose was suffocating with her lack of knowledge, with her ability to link herself to Dr. Underwood somehow, but still she knew what the nurse asked wasn’t out of this world. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Good.” Nurse Judy got to her feet. “I’ll do my best to convince Dr. Underwood to keep you out of restraints, but you’re going to have to help clean up your mess. You do realize what you did out there was wrong, right?”

  Rose nodded.

  “And you feel very, very sorry for it as well, right?” Nurse Judy asked with a small smile on her face, like she was doing her best to keep her young daughter out of trouble with a teacher or doctor or someone, just the way Mrs. Briar used to when Rose got caught doodling in school.

  “I’m sorry my daughter zoned out in your class today, but she feels terribly about it,” Mrs. Briar had said to Rose’s second grade teacher, glancing down at Rose with a conspiratorial smile. Then she smoothed the expression and looked back at the teacher, all business, no frill. Rose loved that. She loved her mother.

  “She drew elephants in the margins of her worksheets.” Mrs. Andrews held out the offending worksheets with the cute elephants on them. “Notice the name, Mrs. Briar.”

  “Yes.” Rose’s mother bristled, searching for the correct response. “I’m sorry she cares for you and your husband enough to draw pictures of you. Most people take honor in that.”

  “But they’re elephants.”

  At this moment, Rose imagined the woman as an angry, stampeding elephant, trunk raised and trumpeting eardrum-splitting roars into the classroom. The windows rattling. Pictures falling off the walls. She cringed and shrank behind her mother’s leg.

  Mrs. Briar pressed her hand to the top of her daughter’s head, gentle, reassuring. “At least she has imagination. A great one. One I don’t expect to have you dampen with your negativity. Tell me something, Mrs. Andrews, did she complete the worksheet? Because to me it looks as if she has. Are they correct? Because according to the star you placed at the top of the page, it looks as if she has them all correct. Maybe instead of focusing on what she’s doing in her downtime in your class, you should be more concerned with issuing work that challenges my child.”

  “Well, I—”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Mrs. Briar stormed out of the classroom, holding tight to Rose’s hand, then leaned her head back around and added, “And next time you think about taking away my daughter’s sketchpad she takes with her everywhere, I want you to remember this moment.”

  The next morning, the stolen sketchpad sat on top of Rose’s desk, and she never drew elephants and named them after her teacher again. She was surprised she didn’t fail second grade though, but maybe Mrs. Andrews didn’t want to have to deal with mother or daughter ever again.

  Rose smiled at the memory, wished she could get back there, to those simple times. “I do. So sorry that I’ll help clean up or do whatever I must to fix this.”

  “And you’ll take your medications.”

  Rose stiffened. “What’s Ketalar?”

  “Something I haven’t given you, to my knowledge. But you have to give me time, Rose. Please.”

  Nodding, she stood next to the nurse and hugged her. “Thank you.”

  Nurse Judy hugged Rose back and then slipped a piece of paper into her hand. “Don’t read this now, not even tonight if you can hold out.”

  “What is it?” Rose asked, slipping it into the pocket of her scrubs.

  “A present, for when you’re feeling down. Something I did for you.”

  Rose hugged the woman again.

  “I know, Rose.” Nurse Judy smoothed her hand up and down Rose’s back. “I know.”

  They stepped into Hall A to a crowd of orderlies. Well, if Thomas and Martin could be considered a crowd, which, judging by their looming, threatening presence, they could. Dr. Underwood sat at the round table in the center of the space, his fingers threaded through his hair. He hadn’t looked up yet.

  “She’s willing to help clean up and get her room back in order, and I believe she has something to say?”

  A spot on the floor stole Rose’s attention. She tapped the spot with her toe, but knew she had to talk. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. For destroying the room.”

  “Anything else?” Dr. Underwood urged, standing in front of her now.

  “It won’t happen again.” Rose knew that was one promise she couldn’t keep.

  “I guess that’ll do.” He sighed, turning toward Thomas and Martin. “Rose is exhibiting signs of paranoia. We’ll need to monitor her for a while, even while she’s helping clean up the mess she created. Nurse Judy will start. Which of you would like second shift?”

  Thomas rocked forward on his toes. “I’ll take it, sir.”

  “Very well.” Dr. Underwood returned his attention to Rose. “I’d still like to show you what I believe will inspire you. Maybe tomorrow. Did the letter from the school mention a deadline?”

  Rose deflated, meeting Judy’s eyes once again. The last thing she was worried about was her internship at the art school. But the nurse didn’t waver. Her gaze was intense. As if she knew the answer to this question would set up everything for Rose from here on out. “I don’t know. I’d have to look.”

  Judy relaxed and wrapped her arm around Rose. “We’ll look for it a bit later, Dr. Underwood. Right now I’m going to take Rose to locate another dresser.”

  “Yes. Yes, the physical activity should be good for her.” He nodded, as if he’d come up with the idea himself and was proud that he thought of it. “Maybe we should increase her activity. Her parents did
provide funds for the gym equipment on the lower level. Has she used any of it yet?”

  “No,” Rose said, hating that they spoke about her as if she weren’t in the room. “She hasn’t.”

  “Let’s change that. Starting tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Rose, let’s get going.” Nurse Judy led Rose through the door on the left side of the main hall, down that long passage that led to the metal staircase leading to the rooftops, to the right and down another set of regular steps, then through a door at the bottom. “The supply closet is this way, so are some of the more secure rooms.”

  “Secure rooms?”

  “Where we put patients who act out or are uncontrollable even with medication and therapy. It’s a step down from your side of the building and one up from the prison cells.”

  Was Nurse Judy trying to tell Rose something? Had they moved Phillip to one of these secure rooms? Could she find him down here if she looked?

  Nurse Judy slipped a beaded chain from around her neck. A key was attached at the end, and she pushed it into the lock and turned the knob, then flicked on a switch to the right of the doorway. Inside, metal frames for beds were stacked along the left side of the room, dressers were lined up three-deep in rows on the right, shower curtains, toothbrushes, combs and the like were stacked on shelves at the back.

  “Let’s just get the dresser for now. We’ll come back for the rest later.”

  The two of them scooted one of the particleboard pieces of furniture along the floor and through the door. Judy locked it, then they lifted with all their might and carried the dresser up the stairs, through the hall, and just when they’d made it past the rounded metal staircase, movement out of the corner of Rose’s eye caught her attention. She looked left but didn’t see anything other than shadows.

  Must have been one of the rats, she thought, barely able to catch her breath. “Stop for a minute?”

  The nurse happily dropped the dresser on the ugly tiles and leaned her elbows atop it. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Voices echoed down the hall, voices Rose thought she recognized from her nightly trips into hell. “He ran up to the left.”

  “No, the right!”

  “Split up.”

  Nurse Judy straightened her spine. “I think it’s time we get moving.”

  “What’s going on?” Rose asked, taking a step toward the metal staircase.

  Someone ran past, but the lighting was so bad over here she couldn’t make out more than a shadow and the whoosh of cold air as he passed.

  The nurse grabbed Rose’s arm and hauled her back toward the dresser. “You promised not to get into any more trouble, and I guarantee you that’s trouble.”

  “You think someone escaped?” A great crowd of cheering spectators had gathered in Rose’s chest and were cheering the person on.

  “Rose?” someone whispered, stopping her dead in her tracks.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Judy heaved up her side of the dresser and looked pointedly at Rose’s side. “The sounds of youth wasting time while their elderly counterparts do all the work? If that’s what you’re talkin’ about, then yes. I heard it.”

  She heard the whisper again. “I mean it.”

  The sound drew Rose in like a moth to flame. She fluttered toward the darkness, toward the metal staircase and the hall behind it. “Who’s there?”

  “You’ll never escape,” Thomas sang as he ascended the stairs on Rose’s right. She shrank at the sight of the needle in his hand. “Don’t know why you’d try.”

  “To prove I exist.”

  Phillip! That voice she’d know from anyone, anywhere. That’s why she was drawn to the whisper, because she knew him. Instinctively she knew it could only be him. And Thomas was trying to find him.

  Judy had set the dresser down and had her hands on her hips. “Rose.”

  “I have to go to him.”

  “You’re making it impossible to help you.”

  Rose took a step away, toward the sound of Phillip’s voice. She needed to be near him, to see him again.

  Nurse Judy didn’t move or ask questions. She stood there with her hands on her hips, staring with disapproving eyes.

  “He wants to help you,” Thomas said, Martin trailing a few steps behind. “That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

  “I used to think so too.”

  “Phillip?” Rose called, startling the two orderlies.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be moving a dresser?” With a sneer curling his upper lip, Thomas reached back to Martin, gaze stuck on Rose. “Give me another syringe. Gonna be a busy day.”

  “We have to get out of here,” Rose whispered, hands shaking with anticipation. She wanted to run. She wanted to run now.

  “I know.” Phillip exploded out of the darkness, grabbed her hand. “Where to?”

  “I have an idea.” Rose beelined to the rounded metal staircase.

  “Up? Really?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t make it out the first day because she went for the front, but now Rose knew there was another way. She raced up the rusted stairwell leading to the roof, taking the steps as fast as possible without letting go of Phillip’s hand.

  “Let’s just talk,” Martin shouted, knocking Thomas out of the way so he could make the steps first.

  “Not with those needles in your hand,” Phillip shouted, urging Rose to run harder, faster, go, go, go.

  When they reached the top, Phillip threw open the door. Glass shattered, clinking and tinging all around their bare feet. He pushed Rose out first, and they kept going despite the shards sticking to their soles and cutting into their skin.

  She teetered on the top of the building, fighting a sudden overwhelming fear she might fall off. Holding onto the wrought-iron railing, Rose knew it was about to get a whole lot worse.

  Phillip yanked on the door at the other end of the catwalk, locked. He pulled on it three times, cursing loudly when it wouldn’t budge. “Now what?”

  She peered down into the lawn. It was a long way down.

  He lifted an eyebrow and stared at Rose like she was crazy. “Now would be a good time to share your plan.”

  “We go down.”

  23

  Rose climbed over the railing and stood at the edge of the rooftop, trembling. But she didn’t have time to wonder whether this was a smart move or not. Thomas and Martin would be here in seconds.

  “No, Rose! No.” Phillip reached for her hands, his skin pale and blotched with green as if he wanted to throw up.

  “I’m not jumping,” she said, lowering to her belly. Rose spotted the trellis just below her left foot. “The rose trellis. The guards mentioned it when the prisoner escaped the other day, and then they ran up here with Dr. Underwood. We can get down this way.”

  Took two seconds for Phillip to join, just as the pounding of boots on stairs drifted out to greet them.

  “Hold on.” Phillip jumped back over the railing and kicked in the locked glass door. “They’ll think we went in the other side.”

  “Smart.”

  Then they were scaling the trellis. Thorns cut into their hands and feet and left tears in their scrubs. Halfway down, Rose’s arms shook with the effort of holding up her own body weight. Her feet bled and burned and would probably need stitches to close up the damage caused by the glass. But she didn’t care.

  Phillip made it off first, reaching up to help Rose down. They ran along the side of the building so no one could catch their movement from inside, ducking behind the hedges. At the far western edge of the institute, they broke into a run, heading for the woods.

  After they made it through enough trees that the institute disappeared from sight, Phillip stopped and spun around. His cheeks were bright red, his hair windblown, and leaves and rose petals stuck to his scrubs. “I hear a creek. Let’s follow it.”

  Sure enough, Rose heard the trickling of water over rocks, and they ran for it, jumping over branches and rocks and slipping in the frozen grass. The gro
und became steeper and rockier the farther they ran. And the sounds of the water grew louder and louder until they were deafening. Phillip hadn’t heard a creek. He’d heard a river.

  Rose pulled herself up, up, up using the rocks jutting out of the earth to help support her balance. She also noticed they left a trail of blood behind them. They weren’t safe from being found while leaving clues as bright as that.

  As she reached the top of the incline, she discovered a thick metal fence stood before them, at least ten feet tall, similar to what secured the front of the institute’s yard, and on the other side, the rocks and earth fell away. A steep cliff cut them off from freedom. And there was no way down but to crawl over the fence and fall. Neither of them was strong enough to climb down the cliff without gear, especially not while bleeding as badly as they were. Rose doubted they could even make it over the fence.

  Phillip hunched into himself, his shoulders rising and his head lowering. “We can’t go this way.”

  “Damn it.” Rose searched for another way out and caught sight of two men weaving in and out of the trees. “Go left. Fast.”

  “There they are,” one of the men said, and Phillip and Rose broke into another run, slipping and sliding on the slick rocks.

  They arrived at a place where a five-foot patch of land stood between the fence and the river, enough for them to land on without plummeting to their death. Rose grabbed the bars and tried to hoist herself up and over, but without sturdy shoes and with bleeding feet, she merely slipped back down.

  “Step into my hands,” Phillip demanded, leaning over to cup his hands as a stool for Rose. She put all her weight into him, and Phillip shoved her up, but the top was still too far away.

  They were trapped, escape slipping through the cracks.

  Rose glanced around for any other exit, for a place to hide and wait, for a tree to climb into so they could hop over. “Phillip, look.”

  To their left she spotted a section of the fence’s foundation that was crumbling, covered by vines and brush.

  “Let me down.”