The Treatment

by C. L. Taylor

  *

  It’s 2.30 p.m. and I still haven’t come up with an escape plan. During lunch I had to listen to Jude’s increasingly paranoid ramblings about Jez and Polly and how, whilst she hadn’t caught them in the cinema together, she could tell that Polly fancied him because she kept looking at his empty seat during lunch. Actually she was doing no such thing – I’d made up the thing about the first date – but at least it had stopped Jude from talking about the escape plan and who deserved to know about the treatment. I didn’t come up with any ideas during maths either, and now it’s time for outdoor activities.

  I stare desperately at the door to the West Wing as I walk round and round the running track with Jude gabbling away in my ear. I still can’t shake how weird Mason was at lunchtime. He had loads of opportunities to make eye contact with me but it was like he was deliberately avoiding looking at me.

  ‘Do you think Jez will get out of the san this afternoon?’ Jude asks. ‘Because I want to talk to him before Polly does.’

  I shrug. ‘No idea.’

  ‘Mouse?’ She looks at Megan, walking on the other side of her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I thought you said Stuart told you he was getting out this afternoon.’

  ‘Yeah, he did.’

  ‘What about Israel?’ Mouse asks. ‘Is he getting out too?’

  ‘I didn’t ask about him.’

  I start at the mention of Israel’s name and a wave of guilt washes over me. I should have realized something was up when he started mentioning snakes and little cars but I was so wound up about the escape plan it was easier to believe that he was winding me up. Being in isolation had messed with his head. I’d read about extreme isolation and how it warps the mind in one of my psychology books before I left home. There was an experiment run by McGill University Medical Center in Montreal where students were isolated in soundproof cells and their perceptual stimulation was reduced to a minimum through gloves, visors and a humming air-conditioning unit. After just a few hours the students became restless and started talking to themselves or singing to stimulate themselves. Some of them started to hallucinate – sounds and visions – and they all became really anxious or overly emotional. The experiment had to be cut short. Most of them didn’t last more than a few days and none of them lasted a week. Poor Israel, going through something like that. I shiver and pull up my hood.

  ‘Drew!’ Jude nudges me. ‘What’s that?’

  She points at a tiny piece of paper on the ground beside my foot. It’s not much bigger than a stamp. ‘It fell out of your hood when you just put it up.’

  I stoop to pick up what I assume is a bit of napkin or tissue but, as my fingers close around it, the hard edges prick at my fingertips. It’s a folded piece of paper. My instinct is to open it but a tiny voice in the back of my mind tells me not to, so I shove it into my pocket and continue to walk.

  ‘What was it?’ Jude asks.

  ‘Nothing. Just a bit of rubbish. One of the lads must have slipped it in for a joke.’

  ‘Probably Callum. He’s always dicking around.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Mouse gives me a sideways glance but says nothing.

  *

  Once we’re back in the rec room I slip away to the toilet and take the folded piece of paper out of my pocket. I’ve been clutching it so tightly it’s become soft and damp. I unfold it quickly, telling myself not to get too excited. It’s probably nothing. But it’s not nothing. It’s a note from Mason. He must have slipped it into my hood when he came over to talk to Stuart. That’s why he didn’t make eye contact with me. He didn’t want anyone to think he was acting suspiciously. I scan the words, scrawled on the tiny bit of paper in blue biro:

  Couldn’t get to the basement last night but will meet you there at 9.10 tonight. We will need to RUN. M.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  9.10pm. We go up to the dorms for quiet time at 9 p.m., which means we have next to no time to get down the stairs, through the tunnels and into the central chamber to meet Mason. I don’t know why he’s specified such an exact time but we can’t be late.

  The second I step out of the toilet I run into Jude. She must have been standing outside the door, waiting for me.

  ‘Jez isn’t coming out of the san today,’ she says mournfully. ‘I just spoke to Abi. She said he’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You know Mouse is going to pre-treatment tomorrow?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So when are we going to … you know …’ She mouths the word ‘escape’. ‘You two still need to find weap–’

  She squeals as I shove her into the toilet cubicle and shut the door behind us.

  ‘Jude!’ I give her a wide-eyed glare. ‘Stuart was standing about three feet behind you. You can’t keep mouthing off about this.’

  It’s so frustrating. If Stuart had only told Mouse about her pre-treatment a couple of minutes earlier I wouldn’t have had to make up a story about weapons and tying up friends to keep Jude off our backs. I feel like my head’s going to explode, trying to juggle everything that’s going on.

  ‘I just want to know what the plan is,’ Jude whines, twisting out of my grasp. ‘You tell Mouse everything but you can’t keep me in the dark for ever, Drew. You need to tell me what’s going on or …’ She tails off but the threat is there.

  We could just kill her. Mouse’s words float around in my head but I mentally shake them away. No one’s going to get killed but Jude’s a bloody liability. I was hoping that Jez would get back from the san this afternoon so he could distract her, but now she has no reason to stop bugging me.

  ‘Tonight,’ I hiss. ‘When we get back to the dorms you find the … you know. And Mouse and I will get the rest.’

  ‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m searching with you. Mouse can find the other stuff.’

  God. This lie is getting more and more out of hand and I still don’t know what to do! I still don’t have a plan and there are less than six hours until we need to meet Mason.

  ‘Fine. You search with me.’

  ‘Really?’ She looks at me suspiciously, like I’ve agreed too easily.

  ‘Yes. Or search with Mouse. I don’t care either way.’

  ‘Oh, right. Like that is it? So what happens after we’ve got what we need?’

  I whisper some stuff about how we’re going to tell Abi that Mouse is having another asthma attack then bundle her into our room and tie her up. When I finish speaking, Jude’s cheeks are flushed pink. She’s thrilled at the thought of attacking a member of staff and tying her up. Such a sick puppy.

  ‘Then,’ I say, ‘we run down the stairs, use the pass on the door, go down through the rec, out through the library, into the entrance hall and out the front door.’

  ‘You think Mouse can deal with all that running?’

  ‘Yes,’ I snap. ‘I do.’

  ‘OK then. But I’m not getting caught just because she’s fat and unfit. I want to be the one to hold the card.’

  I swallow down my irritation. ‘OK.’

  I bundle her back out of the toilet before she can ask another question then pull on her arm and hiss in her ear, ‘Don’t screw this up, Jude.’

  She pulls away and grins at me. ‘I won’t. Believe you me, I won’t.’

  *

  I could cry. For the last hour and fifteen minutes I’ve been sitting on a beanbag in the corner of the rec room, with Mouse and Jude either side of me, watching the clock.

  8.54 p.m.

  8.55 p.m.

  8.56 p.m.

  8.57 p.m.

  There is no way Mouse and I could have escaped from the rec room without one of the friends seeing us. Some new friend, a big ginger bloke with a beard – Destiny’s replacement, I assume – has been standing by the door to the stairs since we arrived and Stuart has been playing PlayStation in the red zone. If we so much as stepped towards the door to the library he’d see us.

  Three times I tried to get aw
ay from Jude so I could have a word with Mouse alone but she saw through every ruse I came up with. She insisted on coming to the café with me to get hot chocolate, then she decided that she needed the loo at the same time as Mouse and I. And then she hovered by the table when I challenged Mouse to a game of pool. I could tell by the tight set of Mouse’s jaw that she was frustrated too. She’s pinning everything on my escape plan to avoid going to pre-treatment tomorrow and I still don’t have one. I’m beginning to think we’re going to have to go with the stupid, made-up plan about kidnapping Abi that I told Jude. But even if we did that we’d still have Stuart to contend with and, whilst the CCTV conveniently went down the last time we went to the basement, we can’t rely on that happening again.

  8.58 p.m.

  8.59 p.m.

  Dozens of ideas flash through my mind and I dismiss them almost as quickly.

  Start another fight?

  No.

  Set fire to something?

  How?

  Set off the fire alarm?

  We can’t. The ginger friend is standing right next to it.

  Pretend to be ill?

  We’d be escorted to the san.

  Just go?

  We could try to peel away from the crowd and sneak downstairs as they shepherd us upstairs for quiet time. It’s all I’ve got but it’ll have to do.

  I glance across at Mouse. She is twisting the hem of her cardigan as she stares at the door. I can’t tell her what the new plan is. I’ll have to just shove her towards the basement stairs and hope she gets the message. Jude will have to come too. Let’s hope she’s as good a runner as she says she is.

  9.00 p.m. The bell sounds and loads of kids groan. Not Jude, she grins and jumps to her feet.

  ‘Ready?’ she says, winking ridiculously.

  Mouse shakes her head but says nothing.

  ‘Have you … um … have you got your inhaler?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  ‘You might need it.’

  She raises her eyebrows. ‘Oh.’

  I hold out a hand. ‘Can I have it?’

  ‘Why?’ she and Jude ask simultaneously.

  ‘Backup plan.’

  *

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jude hisses, as I grab hold of her sleeve and tug her out of the front of the queue to get up to the dorms.

  ‘Change of plan.’

  She looks confused, and ever so slightly pissed off, but she follows me and Mouse to the back of the queue without saying a word. I gather my room-mates closer to me and drop my voice.

  ‘So what’s happening now is –’

  I glance over my shoulder. Abi is standing directly behind us. She gives us a wide, fake smile then looks at her watch and gazes over our heads towards the front of the queue. She looks as though she can’t wait to get us all into the dorms so she can sign off. We might have to push her out of the way to get down the stairs. I know she’s as fake as an Essex tan but the thought of giving her a shove doesn’t sit well with me. She probably doesn’t even know what happens once we’re shipped off to the treatment unit.

  I turn back and raise my eyebrows at Mouse and Jude, signalling that they should pay attention. Then, keeping my hands low and out of sight of Abi and the CCTV cameras, point at them, my eyes and my chest. Don’t take your eyes off me. I touch my lips, point at them again and mime running by scissoring the fingers of my right hand. When I tell you, run!

  For a split second they both look confused but then they nod. They’ve got it.

  I glance over my left shoulder again, to check that Abi wasn’t watching but we’re good. She’s looking at her watch again.

  ‘Alreet, Abi?’ The big ginger friend strolls down the queue and stops beside Abi. Up close he’s enormous; at least six foot four with shoulders like boulders and the thickest forearms I’ve ever seen in my life. He’d better not be escorting us upstairs too.

  ‘All the better for seeing you,’ Abi simpers.

  ‘That’s what all the lasses say.’

  ‘Well this lass –’ she does such a crap Geordie accent it makes me cringe ‘– is off to get a glass of wine. You sure you’re OK doing the cool down routine? It doesn’t always go exactly to plan.’ She laughs.

  Ginger runs a hand over his hair, preening himself. He must fancy her. ‘I’ll let you know I’ve worked with hardened crims. How bad can this lot be?’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure I’ll be fine. You get yourself off. Enjoy your wine. Maybe I’ll see you later.’

  I hear the soft pad of Abi’s trainers on the lino as she crosses the rec room, heading for the library door. The sound gets quieter and quieter and then stops.

  ‘Alreet, lasses.’ A heavy hand on my shoulder makes me almost jump out of my skin. ‘It’s my first night on the job. Be gentle with us, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, ’course.’ Jude flutters her eyelashes at him from under her fringe. She has no idea how much Ginger’s appearance has just screwed up my plan.

  *

  I follow Mouse through the open door and feel Jude press up against me as we shuffle into the stairwell. As normal, the other students are taking their time getting to the dorms and we’re backed up with about ten others, waiting to go up the stairs.

  ‘Come on, kids!’ Ginger Beard shouts, pulling the door closed behind him. ‘Get a move on! The slower you go the less time you’ve got to chill out before lights out.’

  I nudge Mouse with my elbow, urging her to take a step to her left, closer to the basement staircase but, as she does, Polly shoots her a smile.

  ‘Apparently you’re off to pre-treatment tomorrow. Congratulations!’

  ‘Thanks.’ Mouse smiles tightly.

  ‘No time for chit-chat!’ Ginger orders. ‘Up the stairs. Quick as you can.’

  The kids standing at the base of the stairs shuffle up a step. As they do, Ginger slips from behind me and stands on the left of Mouse, effectively blocking our route to the basement. Damn it. We could still chance it. We could rush him and hope at least one of us gets past him, but there’s only one staff pass and it’s in my bra. If he catches me, Mouse won’t be able to get out. It’s too risky. Plan B it is then.

  I take a step to my right, knocking into Jude, then shout out in pain.

  ‘Drew?’ Jude stares at me, her eyes wide. ‘What the –’

  ‘You stepped on my foot.’ I duck down and touch the toe of my right trainer with my left hand. At the same time, I plunge my right hand into my pocket, pull out Mouse’s inhaler and shove it behind me. It spins along the tiles then lies still in the corner of the stairwell.

  ‘Drew?’ I feel Mouse’s hand on my shoulder and look up. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yep, yep, yep.’ I get up quickly as Ginger’s hairy face peers over the top of Mouse’s head.

  Please don’t let him have seen the inhaler. Please, please.

  ‘What’s up?’ he says.

  ‘She stood on my foot!’ I flick a thumb towards Jude.

  ‘No I didn’t! Why would you lie about something like that?’ She glares at me, her expression changing from affront to suspicion in a millisecond. She doesn’t know what’s going on and is worrying that this is all part of a plan to escape without her.

  ‘It’s not a problem.’ I flash my eyebrows at her. ‘It was just an accident. Wasn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ she hisses from between tight lips, ‘it wasn’t. Because I didn’t step on your foot. Don’t accuse me of things I didn’t do, Drew. You might not like the repercussions. Do you get what I’m saying?’

  Ginger Beard looks from me to Jude and frowns. ‘Everything OK with you girls?’

  ‘Fine.’ I take a step towards the stairs. Polly is already at the top and now it’s only me, Jude, Mouse and Ginger Beard in the stairwell. Without so many bodies crammed into the small space the blue inhaler looks really conspicuous in the corner of the stairwell.

  ‘Come on, guys.’ I reach for Mouse’s and Jude’s hands and, feeling li
ke a mum dragging her kids to the doctor’s office for an injection, pull them up the first few steps.

  I let go of their hands as we round the corner and look at my watch: 9.04 p.m. We’ve got six minutes left to meet Mason. Mouse and Jude continue to walk beside me, glancing at me with every step they take, their eyes fixed on my hands, waiting for the signal to run. It’s not going to come, girls. Not with the Jolly Ginger Giant right behind us with his arms spread wide. All I’ve got left is Plan B and, as plans go, it’s pretty crap.

  I slow my pace as we reach the bottom of the last set of stairs. There’s a massive huddle of kids standing in the stairwell outside the dorms. Why have they all stopped? What’s going on? I look back at the Ginger Giant give him a questioning look.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Pat down.’

  ‘WHAT?’

  He laughs. ‘Mrs H.’s orders. One of the support assistants left today and she didn’t hand her pass in.’

  ‘And Mrs H. thinks one of us has got it?’ My heart’s beating so quickly I feel sick. Of course Destiny didn’t hand in her ‘wiped’ staff pass when she left – it’s sitting between my boob and my bra.

  ‘I know you’ve got it.’ Ginger Beard narrows his eyes and holds out a hand. ‘Hand it over.’

  My forehead prickles with sweat. How does he know? Did CCTV catch me fumbling around under my pyjama top as I changed my bra? No, I’m sure I went into the bathroom. I always go into the bathroom. He has to be bluffing.

  ‘Ha ha!’ I point at his pass and fake a laugh. ‘You think I’d still be here if I had one of those, Kyle?’

  He laughs – a real, bellowing guffaw. ‘True. True. Anyway, up you go. Stuart’s checking the boys. Stella’s doing the girls.’

  I continue to keep my smile fixed on my face as I take step after step after step until I’m in the stairwell, then I head to the right, annoying the other kids as I squeeze past them to get to the base of the staff quarter stairs. We’re so tightly packed up here that, if one person fell over, there would be a domino effect and we’d all tumble to the ground. When I reach the wall I turn round, to check that Mouse and Jude are following and, sure enough, here’s Jude, batting people of the way like she doesn’t give a damn and Mouse, apologizing profusely, as she trails in her wake.