The Cage (7 page)

He thought of Jennifer but didn’t want to get into the details with Kendrick. “That doesn’t matter now, sir. He’s out of the secure wing, and the rest of the hospital is barely minimum security. There’s no way that we can contain a man like Ackerman. The situation is out of our control.”

The rest of the men in the room had ceased their activities and were watching the confrontation. Kendrick’s jaw clenched, and he motioned for David to step into the hallway. Once in the hall, the doctor slammed the door and wheeled on David, a manicured finger jabbing into the soldier’s chest. “You listen up. I’m in charge here. This is my hospital, and I won’t let your incompetence ruin everything I’ve worked for. This could destroy me and set my research back a de-cade in the clinical trials. It’s the ammunition that my opponents need to shut me down, and I’m not about to let that happen. We’ll handle this matter internally.”

David couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing, and he knew that more innocent people’s lives de-pended upon his actions. He batted Kendrick’s finger away and pushed closer to the much smaller doctor. “One good man has already lost his life. I won’t risk anyone else getting hurt.”

“The loss of your man is tragic, but my research has the potential to save hundreds of thousands of lives. We can’t let some minor setback halt such important—”

David lashed out and grabbed Kendrick by the shirt. He lifted the doctor from the floor and slammed him into the wall. “His name was Bert!” he screamed. “He was my friend, not some ‘minor setback.’”

Kendrick’s eyes flashed with fear for a brief moment, but then they melted into rage. He pushed David away and said, “I’m in charge here. If you don’t want to follow orders, then I’ll find someone who will. Do I make myself clear?”

David’s limbs trembled with impotent rage. He wanted to beat Kendrick into a bloody mess, but he had no choice other than to follow orders. He could serve his men better in the field than locked away. “Fine. But if anyone else gets hurt, I swear . . .” He restrained himself, but let the threat hang in the air.

Kendrick stepped away and reached up as if to straighten his tie. He apparently had forgotten that he was dressed in sweats and not his usual attire, and his hand brushed awkwardly at his collar and then fell to his side. He issued a heavy sigh, and David saw the man’s anger deflate. “David, listen. I’m not a monster. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, either, but the situation here is much more dire than you realize. If my research doesn’t show dramatic results within the next month, the board is going to shut down the entire hospital.”

“What? Why the hell would they do that?”

“It all boils down to money. The funding just isn’t there any longer. In 1981, there were over thirty mental institutions within the state. Only six remain today. Sixteen have closed down since 1991. If we don’t succeed here, we’re all out of our jobs. And a big portion of these patients will be out on the street. Many of them will end up homeless, in jail, or worse.”

“But what about the new wing and all the renovations?”

Kendrick’s head twisted slowly from side to side. The fluorescent lighting reflected a glistening sheen of tears forming within the doctor’s eyes. “A last-ditch effort to prove ourselves. But make no mistake, the money’s gone. We’re a month away from closing our doors. My grandfather was a groundskeeper at this hospital, David. My father worked here as a counselor. I grew up in these halls. This place has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Everything comes to an end, but I can’t help feeling that I failed this place and all these people. This happened on my watch. But if we can find a way to control this situation, we may still have a chance.”

David ran a hand over his hair and stared at Kendrick for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Then the door to the security office swung open, and Banks leaned out. “We found him.”

“Where?”

“We spotted him ducking into a supply closet in Ward C, Hallway 4. He’s wearing a guard’s uniform. We might have missed him earlier because of that, but this was definitely Ackerman.”

“Good work.” David snatched the radio from his belt. “Johnson, what’s your status?”

The radio crackled to life in response. “We’re grabbing weapons from the armory. We found four orderlies willing to help along the way.”

David made a mental calculation of Johnson’s position. It would be much faster to send Johnson and his group to Ackerman’s location than to try and go himself. “Okay, Johnson. Ackerman just ducked into a supply closet in Ward C, Hallway 4. Head over there and secure him. Consider him armed and extremely dangerous. He’s already killed one of our men, so don’t hesitate. You get a shot, you take it. If you can safely capture him using the Tasers, then do it. But don’t take any chances. You’re authorized to use deadly force. We’ll be monitoring him from the security room and will let you know if he changes position.”

“Understood. We’re on our way.”

He returned the radio to his belt and glanced at Kendrick. The facility’s director wore a smug grin.

“What did I tell you?” Kendrick said. “We have the situation well in hand.”

David glared at Kendrick but said nothing. He didn’t want to waste his breath with a response, but he knew that Ackerman wasn’t going down without a fight.

A bare bulb with a dangling pull chain lit the meager space, but it was more than enough light for Ackerman to make his preparations. He needed an ad-equate distraction in order to ensure a clean escape, and he knew fire to be one of the most chaos-inducing forces on earth.

Fire had always fascinated him, even as a young boy. His father had burned him on numerous occasions during his many experiments and tests, but the damage to his body had not instilled a fear of fire. Instead, it had stoked his curiosity.

When he stared into a flickering flame, he couldn’t escape the sense of some connection, some kinship between himself and the strange entity. Fire wasn’t alive, but it consumed. It mercilessly sought out its prey and then devoured it. It didn’t need a reason for being; it simply existed. Unlike people, fire didn’t have motives, fears, desires, or compulsions. It was pure. And he admired that purity.

He was pleased that the closet contained everything he needed. After securing some duct tape and a few other items he felt might come in handy, he grabbed a janitor’s mop bucket from the corner and began filling it with common chemicals. He had learned the recipe a long time ago and felt that it would serve his purposes nicely. After mixing the chemicals in the appropriate proportions—ammonia, drain cleaner, iodine from a first aid kit—the makeshift bomb was ready.

He placed the final ingredient in a plastic cup that would dissolve within a few seconds and floated it atop the other chemicals in the bucket. Then he quickly slipped out the door and closed it behind him just as the chemicals began to react and a cloud of rolling vapors billowed across the floor.

Within the main security office, David, Kendrick, Ferris, and Banks huddled around the security monitors hoping that Ackerman remained within the closet. David watched Johnson’s group approaching on another monitor and tried to push back a rising sense of anxiety. Experience had taught him that there was little chance of the current situation being resolved without further bloodshed.

On the screen, Johnson and the others took cover within each doorway as they approached the closet. The way they moved down the hall reminded David of a two by two cover formation that he had employed in Iraq.

The visions assaulted him.

He didn’t ask for them to come, and they couldn’t have chosen a worse time to attack, but they were there, struggling against the back of his eyelids nonetheless.

The IED exploded beneath his friend’s feet. He felt pieces of flesh raining down in a red mist. He dove for cover as the gunfire erupted. Another of his group went down, and another. The injured cried out for help. But he just lay there, frozen. He didn’t even return fire. He wasn’t a hero. He hadn’t saved his friends. He let them all die. He just lay there, crying, praying to go home.
Then he ran
. . .

David toppled over. Kendrick jumped back, but Ferris caught him before he hit the floor. Ferris steadied him and said, “You okay? What the hell happened?”

He shook off the confusion and tried to acclimate himself with his surroundings. He wasn’t in Iraq. He was back home, fighting a war of a different kind. He blinked hard and waited for his vision to clear. Then he said, “I’m fine. Must be the adrenaline. I just got really light-headed there for a second. I’m good now. Thanks.”

“You sure?”

“They’re almost there,” Banks said, drawing everyone’s attention.

David turned back to the monitors in time to catch the door bursting open and Ackerman slipping out. “There!”

He grabbed for his radio. “Johnson, he’s on the move! Be advised, target is on the move! He’s heading down Hallway 4 away from your position.”

“Copy that. We’re in pursuit.”

Johnson and the others picked up their pace but remained poised for an attack. Watching the game of cat and mouse unfold on the monitors didn’t make David feel disconnected from the events. In fact, it made him feel helpless and oddly claustrophobic. He wished that he were there with them. He should have been there. He wondered if, by sending them in his place, he was once again running away.

As the group came upon Ackerman’s previous hiding spot, he noticed a haze of smoke emanating from beneath the doorway.

His mind flashed back to Iraq, and he realized with certainty what Ackerman had done.
“IED!”
he screamed into the radio.

“What’s that? I didn’t copy your last—”

The door to the closet exploded outward, ramming into Johnson and blowing him back. The flames followed close behind the door and rolled through the hallway like some great hulking beast.

The camera feed shook and then flickered out.

David swallowed hard and pressed both of his hands against his temples. No one in the control room said a word.

Jennifer rubbed her fingers back and forth against her chest and stared at Bert’s body. She thought of David’s words and knew that he was right. She caused this man’s death. He had been a kind, good-hearted person. He had a family out there who loved him, people who would cry at his funeral, suffer the pain of his loss. And she was responsible for their pain.

As she stared at him, she felt the weight of her actions. But she also knew that if she had succeeded in killing Ackerman, the weight of Bert’s death would have been one she could carry.

She closed her eyes against the tears and leaned her head against the wall. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t escape her own mind. Pictures, still frames, of smiling faces flashed before her eyes. Bert’s face had been added alongside those of her family. Just another victim who needed to be avenged.

A rumbling like a clap of thunder shook the building, and she might have assumed that was all it was if the fire alarms hadn’t followed on its heels. It must have been some type of explosion, and there could only be one cause for such an event. Ackerman was causing more pain, more loved ones to receive phone calls at three in the morning, more caskets lowered into graves, more photos of lives cut short lining the walls of a funeral parlor.