Spirit Legacy (24 page)

Chapter 18—Jailbreak

Chapter 18—Jailbreak

T
he next few hours were agonizing.
As soon as Lucida and Catriona had made their escape, I was struggling out of bed and into my jeans. I was halfway to the stairs before Karen realized I was heading for the car. The shouting match that ensued was not pretty, but I was feeling the closest to crazy I’d ever felt in my life.

I had a sister. A twin sister. And they had her locked away like some maniac.

Every fleeting fear I’d ever had about my own future had been her entire life. I felt so sick I was swallowing back bile every time I let myself imagine it. It was all Karen could do to get me to sit on the sofa in the office while she began a frantic string of phone calls. My entire body still ached with every beat of my pulse, but I barely noticed it. A new pain was taking over, the debilitating emotional pain of the unknown.

Karen talked to social workers, judges, and other lawyers. She’d woken them all in the middle of the night, but apparently she was respected enough that they were all willing to overlook that fact in light of her story. Unfortunately, their respect didn’t seem to be enough, and her tone grew more frustrated with each subsequent conversation. I sat curled like a cat in a big leather armchair, fighting to keep my eyes open as I watched the bright oranges and pinks of dawn creep through the blinds and across the floor. Finally, Karen slammed the phone into the cradle with a resounding curse.

“What? What is it?”

“We can’t get her released. Not legally, anyway.”

“What do you mean we can’t get her released? There’s nothing wrong with her! She’s not crazy!”

“I know that and you know that, but no doctor in the world is going to release her, not with her history.”

“Call Finvarra, or whatever the hell her name is! She’s in charge of all this Durupinen stuff, isn’t she? There’s got to be something she can do! I mean, Hannah can’t be the first one of us to be locked up because people misunderstood.”

“No, she’s not, not by a longshot,” Karen said. “But Finvarra is in London, and even her contacts would take time and money to work their magic. Money we’ve got, but we’re out of time. We’ve got to formally open this Gateway and perform a crossing before one or both of you meets a fate like your mother did.”

“So, now what? What do we do? Who do we call?”

“There’s no one else to call. I told you they aren’t going to release Hannah.”

“But we
have
to—”

“—Jess, calm down! We’re getting Hannah out of there, and we’re doing it today. It’ll just take a little more … creativity,” Karen said, looking me square in the eye.

My exhausted brain was slow to catch up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re breaking her out.”

In that moment my anger toward Karen twisted into something resembling respect and, although I didn’t realize it at the time, I began to forgive her for lying to me. “I knew this was the most likely outcome,” she said, “so I’ve been trying to weigh our other options, and I think I’ve come up with a plan B. How are your acting skills?”

I snorted. “Nonexistent, but just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.”

“I think the only way to get Hannah out is to send you in for her. We’re going to pretend that I’m your mother, there to have you, my unruly daughter, evaluated and committed. While I’m meeting with the doctors, you need to find a way to get in, find Hannah, and get both of you out.”

“Besides the fact that I have no idea how we’re going to do any of that, I think it’s a great plan,” I said.

“Agreed. Go put on whatever you have in your wardrobe that would frighten Noah the most and let’s go.” She didn’t need to tell me twice. I sprinted upstairs to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair, then thought better of it and teased it into a hopelessly tangled mess. I also traded out my St. Matt’s sweatshirt for a shredded pair of grey jeans, a shirt made almost entirely of fishnet, and a little leather cropped jacket I’d bought in a consignment shop. A pair of knee-high black combat boots completed the outfit. Karen was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, a file folder and my bag in her hands.

I spun to show off my outfit. “Scary enough?”

“Terrifying. Let’s go.”

§

The facility was a good four hours away, according to the frustratingly calm voice on Karen’s GPS, and I worked hard to convince myself that no amount of grumbling on my part was going to make the drive any shorter. I stared out the window for a while, but my vision still had an odd, cloudy quality around the periphery, and the blurred scenery began to give me a headache. Instead, I closed my eyes and listened as Karen tried to formulate a plan.

“I’m sure there’s some kind of waiting room. Just act lethargic and hopefully they’ll let you sit unattended. I’ll tell them you’re on something. They’ll buy it; no offense, but you look like hell.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like hell, so I guess that’s appropriate.”

“Once you’re in, try to stay out of the sight of the staff. This place isn’t exactly a fortress, but it still probably won’t be easy to find her. When you do, just find a way out and meet me at the car. I’ll stall with the doctors to buy you as much time as I can. I’m sorry we don’t have more to go on, but we’ll just have to improvise.”

“Whatever we have to do.”

“I read up on the staff physicians while I was waiting for you to change. A couple of them have given medical evidence at some trials I’ve worked. They really are good people over there, not like some of the quacks I’ve seen on the stand.”

“Not that it’s done Hannah any good, since no doctor would ever believe what she’s experiencing.”

“Hannah could have done a lot worse than end up there,” Karen said. “Durupinen have suffered far greater punishments for their gifts.”

“Gift is a relative term I’m not ready to use yet,” I retorted. Karen had the good grace to look contrite.

Finally, we pulled up to the New Beginnings Group Home. The sign might have said “home,” but the place looked like a miniature prison. Bars were affixed to the windows on both floors of the sterile white concrete structure. The cheerful tulips planted along the walkways looked as out of place as if they had been planted in the middle of the arctic tundra. A chain link fence ran around the perimeter of the yard, but it appeared low and easy to climb. Despite my best efforts, I was practically hyperventilating by the time we found our way inside.

Karen grasped my shoulders tightly, and I let her steer me into the lobby. She sat me in an orange plastic chair and then marched to the front desk. I was repressing a horrible flashback of visiting my grandfather at the Winchester Home for the Aged. As depressing as that place had been, there was something even worse about knowing that the patients here were just kids, spending what should have been the best years of their lives locked away in this prison of barred windows, cinderblock walls, and ironic tulips.

I could see Karen gesturing rather frantically to the nurse at the front desk. She was clearly a better actress than I was. I wondered how many times she’d had to lie to keep the Durupinen’s secrets. She’d done it plenty of times to me. The nurse, who was built like a linebacker, leaned around Karen to get a better look at me. Before I could even try to look drugged-out, she nodded, as though one glance at me had confirmed all that Karen had said. The nurse stood up and stomped her way across the tiles towards me. Karen followed, her expression the picture of motherly concern. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what the delay is with her paper work, but I can assure you, she is supposed to be admitted here. This is a court-mandated placement. Isn’t there anywhere you can put her while we sort this out?”

“I guess I can put her in one of the detox rooms until the doctor clears it up,” the nurse said.

“That’s wonderful, thank you,” Karen sighed. She turned to me and shook my shoulder. “Jessica? You need to go with Nurse Jameson. She is going to bring you somewhere where you can lie down.”

I glanced from the nurse’s sour face to Karen’s. Should I go quietly, or make a scene? Karen sensed my hesitation and tossed me a clue.

“Now don’t give her any trouble, okay? Not like last time.”

“I want to go home!”

“I know you do. We just need to get you cleaned up and then we’ll go home, okay?” She smiled.

I looked back at the nurse now towering over me. Seriously, the woman was downright Amazonian. She was attempting to smile too, though it looked more like she was going to swallow me whole.

“You’re lying! You’re not gonna let me go home. You’re just gonna lock me up here, aren’t you? Do you think I’m fucking stupid? I hate you, you bitch!” This last bit might have been overkill, but I figured it was better to overplay it than underplay it.

Karen went along with it, though. “Jessica! Do not use that kind of disrespectful language with me! I have had it! I said we would go home, and I promise that we will, but you are not going home in this condition. If your father sees you like this, he’ll kick you out of the house. Is that what you want?”

“Yes!”

“Enough! Now, please let Nurse Jameson bring you somewhere to rest.”

“I hate you, mom! I hate you!” I shouted as the nurse hefted me out of the chair and across the hall. I chanced one glance over my shoulder. Karen was watching me anxiously. She gave me a quick thumbs-up and held up her cell phone just as I lost sight of her around the corner. We’d agreed to text each other to keep in touch.

“Jessica, your mother told me she thinks you took some ecstasy at that party. Is that true?” Nurse Jameson’s voice was low and gravelly.

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you took?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so. I don’t really remember.”

“Mm-hmm.” Nurse Jameson released the death-grip on my shoulder long enough to extract a laminated ID on a lanyard from the neckline of her scrubs. She waved it in front of a small black sensor on the wall and the door in front of us swung open. It looked like I was going to have to steal one of those in order to get Hannah and me out of here. I wasn’t up on my legal jargon, but I really hoped that wasn’t a felony.

Nurse Jameson steered me into an identical corridor and then took an immediate right into a small, nondescript room that held nothing but a cot, a bedside table, and a black plastic trashcan. In one swift motion she muscled me onto the bed and swept the trashcan alongside it.

“You may start to feel sick when you come down, Jessica. Just aim for the trashcan, okay? I’ll have to clean it up if you miss.”

“I’ll do that,” I mumbled letting my head fall limply back onto the pillow.

“Put those on,” she told me, pointing to a greenish blue pile of cotton fabric on the end of the bed. She walked to a small intercom unit on the wall. She pushed the button and said, “New intake in detox three. Urine kit and scrubs requested.” Then she turned back to me. “Well? Put them on!”

I gaped at her. “Can’t you give me some privacy?”

“Don’t think so, sunshine,” she barked. “I can’t leave you until I’m sure you aren’t hiding anything on your person. You’ll get your clothes back when I’m sure they’re clean. So, let’s go, I’ve got a lot of other patients to see to.”

Luckily, I’d already stuck my cell phone in my bra. I didn’t know if that counted as contraband, but I wasn’t going to draw attention to it if I didn’t have to. I scrambled into the loose cotton pajamas as quickly as I could and deposited by clothes and boots into a small plastic bag before handing them over.

“Now lie down and try to get some rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you, and if everything is sorted out with your paperwork, we’ll move you to one of the resident rooms,” she said. The door clicked shut behind her.

I held still for a minute or so, to make sure she was gone, and then crept up from the bed. As I neared the closed door I could hear voices nearby.

“… need to lock her in?”

“No, she’s technically not committed yet, so we can’t. But she’ll be out cold in a few minutes anyway. Mother got home from a business trip and found her nearly passed out in the backyard.”

“The backyard?”

“Trying to sneak in a window after being out all night. You should see her eyes. I’m not sure what she’s on but it’s not just ecstasy.”

“Did you start your rounds yet?”

“No. Damn it, I’ll never clock out on time now.”

“I’ll check the girls in South for you, if you want. They’ll be back from the first lunch seating soon.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight, Helen.”

“Not me. I’m off tonight. ‘Bye.”

The squeak of two pairs of orthopedic shoes faded away.

I pressed my palms against the door and inched it open. The hallway was completely deserted. I slipped out and started in the opposite direction from the lobby. I’d only made it a few yards when a door began to open to my right. A nurse was backing out of it, wheeling some kind of cart. I ducked into the room directly across the hall and pulled the door shut behind me.

The room was large and bright, with buttery yellow walls and curtains striped in primary colors, like something you’d find in a preschool. Several groups of couches and comfortable chairs were situated around low, 70’s style linoleum coffee tables, each of which was stacked with board games. I realized too late that there was someone sitting in the room, a boy about my age playing solitaire in the corner by the window. He made no sign that he had noticed me as I dropped into a chair, breathing hard. I needed to plan out my next move, but I had almost nothing to go on.

“So what are you in for?” he asked. His voice was unusually high and feminine.

“I’m not in. I’m just visiting.”

“Really? You mean those are
your
wardrobe choices? Oh, honey.”

Something about him made me feel edgy, but then again, they weren’t going to let dangerous lunatics wander the place unaccompanied.

The boy sighed dramatically. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m in for?”

“No, actually I wasn’t. Should I?”

He pouted. “Well, yeah. I mean, I provided you with an ideal set-up. I must have piqued your curiosity, just a little.” He gazed at me through a curtain of shaggy dark hair, and his eyes were amused.

“I guess I didn’t want to be rude,” I said.

“I asked you first. Are you calling me rude?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

He arched one eyebrow. “Fair enough.”

We sat in silence that was neither loaded nor awkward. It was broken only by the squeak of the nurse’s cart on the linoleum and the crisp slap of the boy’s playing cards onto the table.

“Depression, acute anxiety, sexual identity confusion, attempted suicide and an addiction to prescription pain killers. That’s the short list,” he said candidly.

“Thanks for sharing,” I said. I was suddenly struck by inspiration. “Hey, do you know Hannah? Hannah Ballard?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you want with Hannah?”

I took that as a yes. “Do you know where her room is?”

“Why do you want to know where her room is?”

“Why is that your business?”

“Hannah is my business. We’re friends.”

I thought about cursing at him, but figured that wouldn’t help me get the information I needed. Instead I said, “I’m here to see her. Trust me, she’ll be glad you told me where she is.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

“You don’t.”

He was silent for a moment, then smirked devilishly. “Touché. They generally keep the girls and boys separate, but those rules don’t really apply to me. She’s in room 218 South, one floor up and to the left, as far as you can go.”