SUSY Asylum

by Michael Pierce

  I jumped down from Nero’s shoulders and onto his bed with a sigh of relief, careful to hold the razor in a way that didn’t slice my hand open. That would be all I needed.

  Nero fell to his knees and dropped his head to the floor, covering as much of his head with his arms as he could manage.

  I hid my head under his bed covers and waited for the storm to be over, praying it wouldn’t last much longer.

  Our bodies relaxed once the room calmed. Every muscle in my body was exhausted from flexing to the max. I peeked my head out from under the blanket. Nero was lying in a heap on the floor, his chest rising and falling like he’d just finished a marathon.

  “We did it,” I said.

  “We did something,” Nero answered, slowly opening his eyes. “Hopefully, what we found will be useful.”

  I crawled down to the floor and collected what I’d found in the ceiling—the folded piece of paper. I carefully unfolded the paper and when I saw it was a map, I closed it immediately.

  “What is it?” Nero asked, rising to a seated position with a sudden curiosity.

  “I’m not totally sure, but I don’t think we should be looking at it out in the open.”

  We didn’t want to say anything more aloud, so Nero gestured to his bed. We jumped onto the bed and pulled the covers up and over our heads like we were at a junior high sleepover. Luckily, the light from the room was enough to still make out what was drawn on the page.

  “It’s a map of the asylum,” I whispered.

  “An unfinished map.”

  “But it looks like the important places are here.” I was excited for the first time in days, or weeks. The roughly drawn map showed all the rooms I had been to and quite a few more. There were hallways that just ended into empty space, but all that we needed was there: where we stood in comparison to the operating room, Dr. Lorne’s office, and the exit elevators.

  “How long do you think it took him to compile all this? This place is a maze,” I said, trying to compare what was drawn to my own memories.

  “He must have a photographic memory,” Nero said.

  “Or he’s just very observant.”

  “Or he was here so long he couldn’t not know where he was going.”

  “If that was true, then why would he draw a map? It seems to me he’d only draw it, pieces at a time, to keep it straight in his head.”

  “If that was true, then he would have taken it with him to get out, you know, to make sure he didn’t get lost,” Nero said with a smug grin that reminded me of Jeremy.

  He was probably right.

  I folded the map back up and rustled free from the bed sheet. The best place I could think to hide it for the moment was stealth-fully leaving it under the blankets on my bed. Once the lights were out for the night, I’d slip it into my pillowcase for safekeeping.

  “There’s only one thing left to do,” Nero said from across the room.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  Nero gestured to the door with his eyes.

  We just needed to get through the door. Hopefully, Nero’s theory from when we’d first been locked up was correct, and there was nothing special keeping us in this room. Their only true power was their ability to keep us distracted. If I could get myself to focus through the insanity, then it would be as easy as walking through an open door.

  

  For the next few days, I tried to remain as calm as possible. I wanted to appear melancholy—like they had broken me and I’d given up all hope, accepting my fate for when Kafka returned. Alexandria assured me he’d return. She never brought us back to her office, but she stopped in to check on me occasionally. Sometimes, she merely looked through the window in the door; even though I could only see her eyes, I knew it was her.

  Each time the screens came on, their fury hurt a little less. It was also my best chance to practice my focus. If I could gain some clarity under these adverse conditions, then I knew we could get out of here. So I sat on the floor, leaning against the side of my bed, with my eyes closed and hands resting gently in my lap. I remembered what it was like to see through my wall for the first time—to see into the plane where Provex City hid and to see Jeremy waiting for me on the other side.

  I wasn’t going to lie down and die. I was going to fight, and my fight had to begin with clarity of focus. No one was going to unlock that door for me. I would have to unlock it myself or die trying. But at least I wouldn’t lie down.

  Each time the screens came on, it felt like they were on for shorter and shorter durations—but I suspected that was my perspective changing as I was able to better push the storm away, a storm that could rage and roar all around me, but could no longer reach me with its fury.

  “Nero, can you hear me?” I asked into the onslaught of chaos.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” he answered. And I could actually hear his answer, even if it was only in my head.

  “During the next storm, we are leaving—right at the beginning. We’ll have until it’s over to get out of the building before they’ll notice our room’s empty.”

  “Lead the way,” Nero answered, merely a whisper in my ear. And we went back to sitting in peace and quiet while the room’s tantrum was anything but.

  Later in the day, about a conversation’s time past lunch or dinner, I took the yellow pad of paper and pencil, and slid my body beneath the bedcovers. Maybe Logan was not the last person in here. Maybe the person who had been in this room after him had duplicated his map to leave for the next prisoner. I didn’t want to steal hope from the next couple to inhabit this room, so I began to draw. Maybe the next people in here wouldn’t have the skills to escape, but I had to at least give them the chance. Without hope, you have nothing. And the map provided hope.

  I ripped a sliver of paper from the back of the pad to use for surrounding the razor so I could hide it in my sock when we were to make our escape. Razor and map. They would hopefully—have to—be enough to successfully MacGyver our escape.

  Three cycles of lights on/off later, I was getting terribly anxious that the screens weren’t coming back on. We needed them for our cover and distraction to orchestrate our getaway. My ankle began to throb again and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was injected and knocked out for an undetermined amount of time.

  Beep…

  …beep…

  …beep.

  I tried to fight the drugs, this time lasting a whole minute before passing out. When I awoke, the storm was in full fury. My head pounded from my body being thrashed by the screens while not having the awareness to block it out. I didn’t know how long it had been raging on for. We’d have to wait longer before attempting our exit.

  “Nero, can you stand?” I asked.

  He stood up and walked over to the desk. We’d at least be able to put the duplicated map back. And once it was safely hidden, there was nothing left to do but wait.

  “During the next storm,” I said, hearing the déjà vu in my statement.

  Nero went back to his bed and collapsed, and we waited for the next storm to roll in.

  

  We had to wait several more light cycles. I was granted another shower and time in the rec. room before then. On neither occasion did I run into Eli or Anna again. Now, I think they knew better then to have us together in the same room. And Desiree never made an appearance. She could be anywhere—or nowhere—she could be already gone for good, but I scolded myself for thinking so pessimistically.

  When the next storm hit, I was awake and not having to recover from the drugs. I—we were ready. I stuffed the map and razor in my left sock. My eyes remained squinted and my ears were off listening to more soothing sounds besides what poured from the speakers. I held tightly to my sense of calm.

  Standing before the door, I looked through the tiny rectangular window to see dimly lit vacant hallways. Everything was lining up perfectly, just as Mr. Gordon would have said when you truly know what you’re doing. There was no room for mere belie
f anymore. I had to know I was going to get out of here in order to do so.

  Nero stood beside me, noticeably calm himself. We both reached out for the door with slight trepidation until feeling the cold steel, and then pushing forth with the knowing that it would not—could not hold us in. The door possessed no special powers; it was just a door. And we pushed through…through… through…into the hallway.

  We stared at each other rather dumbfounded in our newly found freedom. No alarms sounded. No black-scrubbed orderlies came rushing around the far corner. We were alone, but for how long? There wasn’t time to congratulate ourselves on a job well done—it was time to run!

  I grabbed the map from my sock and led the way down the hall. First left. Second right. First right. Third left. Eighth door on the left. We passed through the door into the operating room I’d been wheeled into when I’d first arrived. I could still picture Anna and Eli lying on the stainless steel tables, stripped to their underwear, with the metal cages being attached to their legs with clamps and needles. And then my mind flashed to Anna and the bulky cast that extended to just above her knee. Nausea returned. My leg and ankle began to throb again. I couldn’t suck in a full breath as the horrible memories flooded back to me.

  “What are we looking for?” Nero asked.

  “How to get this thing off,” I said, kicking my leg up instead of pointing to it. I saw several gray cords on tables against the wall and took one. I fiddled around with the electronic panel on the cylindrical leg of a stainless steel operating table, connecting one end of the cord to the panel and the other to the cage around my leg.

  “Help me with this,” I said to Nero, while hopping up on the operating table and laying my leg out straight. I pulled my pant leg up to fully expose the device, something I tried not to look at when I could help it, and stuffed the map back into my left sock. “Flip the switch next to where I attached the cord. Hopefully it guides the needles out.”

  Nero did and the mechanical roar made us both jump. The needles inched their way out of my skin, sending lightning bolts up my leg and back. I clenched my teeth; I had nothing to bite down on. The mechanical roar was loud, but not loud enough to hide the three beeps tolling from the contraption.

  I broke into a cold sweat. “Hurry, hurry!” I yelled.

  “I’m not controlling the speed!” Nero answered. “It’s working at its own pace.” His eyes were glued to the metal device as the tips of the needles drew closer to the surface of my skin.

  But it was too late. I could feel the drugs being pumped into me. I shook my head in disbelief, tears streaming down my face. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

  The needles pulled out of my leg and continued to squirt clear liquid, most of which was soaked up by the gauze wrapped around my leg. The machine roar died.

  Nero jumped to action and pushed the needles to the side of the cage and maneuvered quickly to slide it off my leg. And before he could slip it over my foot, the hum from the floor sounded to complicate things further, locking the cage in that exact spot.

  I wiggled the rest of the way out of the contraption and franticly unwrapped the gauze.

  “How much do you want to bet the lockdown is for us?” Nero said.

  “Hurry! Find me some clean gauze.” I continued to unravel the heavily soaked gauze and dropped it on the floor with a splat when it was free from my leg. Blood poured from the needle holes, and I squeezed each one to extract more blood—and hopefully some of the drugs.

  Nero ran back with a new roll of gauze and some towels, and handed them to me.

  I wiped away what blood I could and quickly wrapped my leg again. My head was beginning to feel woozy. My leg and ankle were beginning to feel better—which was a bad sign. Hopping down from the operating table, I found my footing on shaky legs. The drugs were working slower, but they were still working. And I didn’t know how long I’d be able to stay awake. Another minute? Another five?

  The cage suspended in air just above the operating table began to beep again, but this time it didn’t stop with three. The beeps continued and seemed to grow louder, though it could have been an imaginary clock counting down to my impending doom. It was most likely the calling of a locator. Orderlies in black scrubs would be bursting through the door at any moment, and possibly even Alexandria Lorne herself.

  “Quickly, this way!” I shouted to Nero and led him to the back wall so we could transition into the room behind the one we were in and emerge into a new hallway, away from the impending commotion. I glanced back just as the door began to open. The room disappeared before someone fully entered.

  I stopped cold. We found ourselves standing in Alexandria Lorne’s office. I looked around and the room spun with the movement of my head. In the corner, a blue blanket was still spread out on the floor with colorful toys tossed haphazardly about.

  I hobbled up to the blanket and grabbed what I knew I had to find before we left—the stuffed animal dog that Alexandria had magically brought to life for a brief moment—my only direct link to my father. I hugged the small dog as the fog in my head continued to thicken.

  “Are you all right?” Nero asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded, which only made the room spin more violently. I felt the nausea clawing at my stomach, attempting to climb its way out. My legs grew weak. I collapsed to a seated position, with the drugs in my system bracing my fall. My body swayed involuntarily. I tried to control it, but everything was moving and I couldn’t find the equal and opposite force to make it stop.

  I handed Nero the map. “You have to lead us out of here. I—I can’t…”

  Nero took the paper and studied it with an inquisitive look.

  “We need to find the elevators that bring us back to the hospital,” I said.

  Nero offered me a hand to help me back to my feet, and we stumbled into the hallway. I hit the walls several times, spinning and continuing, clutching the inanimate Frolics tightly.

  “Slow down,” I said, slurring my words.

  “We can’t,” Nero answered and pulled me by the hand. “It’s just a few turns to go. You can make it. Don’t pass out on me!”

  “I’m okay,” I lied, running in zigzags behind Nero like a wakeboarder. I then pulled at his arm to stop. He complied, but not without protesting. I ran up to a small rectangular window in a door like the one from which we had escaped. I’d seen a flash of blonde hair, and when I got close to the window I saw Anna in the room, sitting on her bed with her broken leg propped up.

  She had something small and shiny in her hand. Sitting on the opposite bed was her mirror, an unspeakably beautiful reflection of Anna. Her mirror’s face contorted in horror and she leapt off the bed.

  With two swift strokes, Anna sliced up both forearms with a razor. The tiny blade dropped from her hand as she fell back onto the bed.

  I screamed and banged against the door. Nero pulled at my arm, forcing me away from the window into Anna’s room.

  Her mirror ripped the bed sheet from under Anna’s limp body and pressed it to her dripping arms. She was soaking up so much blood. Such a beautiful face with tears flowing like the slits in Anna’s arms.

  “NO! ANNA!” I cried, but I couldn’t stop Nero from pulling me away.

  “We can’t save her,” Nero pleaded and continued to tug at my arm with all of his strength.

  Two orderlies in black scrubs had already rounded a corner and were barreling toward us.

  “I have to—” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t form the words. But I had to do something. I had to at least save someone. I couldn’t leave her like that, leave her here, leave her—

  “They’re not just going to lock us up again! Do you understand that?” Nero wouldn’t let go.

  I couldn’t stop protesting. The hallway spun more violently. The orderlies looked like they were running on the wall. The nausea had crept its way into my chest. I couldn’t protest for long because soon I’d have no strength left.

  I found myself being
dragged down the hall, away from the charging orderlies, away from the window of horror, and away from certain death. I no longer protested, more out of inability than a change of heart.

  We were running down the hallway again, turning corner after corner. My free hand clutching Frolics bobbed lifelessly beside me. I had to conserve what little strength and consciousness I had left, which seemed to be draining out of the needle holes in my leg.

  Anna! Someone had to do something. This couldn’t be the last time I saw her. She couldn’t die! Not here; not now. Anna, I’m so sorry.

  The orderlies turned the corner, fast on our heels. Now they were running on the opposite wall. Everything was spinning. It was like the walls had become the floor and the ceiling had become the wall, as if we were running through a spiraling cylinder in a funhouse or a 1950s movie time warp.

  The orderlies were shouting something. At us? At others to meet us at the elevators or to flank us from the hallway ahead? They were closer now, looming over us. Hands outstretched. Metal devices in their hands.

  We turned another corner. Hopefully, Nero knew where he was leading us because each new hallway looked remarkably like the one before. I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to our room, let alone the elevators we were supposed to take to safety.

  The orderlies turned the corner with fire in their eyes and saliva dripping from their jaws like ravenous zombies.

  I saw elevators just ahead. Could they be the ones we were looking for—our capsules of salvation?

  Nero hit the button on the wall and the doors slid open. He jumped through the glass into the tiny capsule, and before I was able to join him, a lightning bolt struck my back and ignited an electric flame that shot throughout my entire body. Everything went immediately limp and I collapsed at his feet, unaware of what was happening to me. Nero said something, sounding distant, shouting from the far end of a long tunnel.