How I Became The Baddest Girl In Clarksville Part 16 True Lies free porn video

How I Became the Baddest Girl in Clarkville Part 16: True Lies -I'd Rather Have a Bottle in Front of Me than a Frontal Lobotomy- I opened my eyes to the weak yellow glow of a bare bulb and for a second time found myself somewhere different than where I closed them. The bulb hung from the ceiling, suspended by a thin frayed wire. I was lying in an old recliner. The footrest was raised and the back lowered to form a makeshift bed. Something gripped my elbow, making it difficult to flex. A glance showed someone had rolled up the left sleeve of my cardigan and taped a thick wad of cotton against the bend in my arm. I lifted the cotton uncovering a needle size hole. The yellow bulb cast just enough light for me to make out the outline of a large room. Busted typewriters, busted desks, busted chairs and what might be busted medical equipment (because of the hoses and wires) were shoved against the walls along with other, less notable cast offs. The door was metal, held by oversized hinges and might have once belonged to a commercial food locker. The handle had been removed so it could only be opened from the outside. On the opposite side of the room was a window. Strips of steel, crisscrossed to form a diamond pattern, covered the glass. Across from me, three chairs plus an old sofa surrounded a battered end table, the type you'd see in doctor's offices stacked with magazines. Instead of reading material, this one held aluminum ashtrays, each one a different color. Cigarette butts spilled over the sides, littering the table and floor. It was no mystery where the smokers hung out. But the thing that caught my eye was the lump on the sofa. In the dim light, I'd taken it for a pile of old drapes. Then it moved. It had to be Austin. I sprang out of the recliner, my heart racing. We were still together. "Austin," I cried, grabbing the faded drape that covered him, pulling it back. "I was so worri--" The words died in my throat. I was staring into the face of Brett Golding. She looked like a nightmare. Her hair hung in tangled clumps. Her eyes were puffy and red. Tear tracks marked her cheeks where she'd been crying. The bit of clothing I could see looked rumpled. I opened my mouth, but whatever I intended to say dried up before I could. Something cold settled in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn't think. Brett snatched the drape from my hand, drawing it up to her chin like someone naked, needing to cover herself. Her eyes flicked right, then left, before settling on me. "Alex, is that you?" she asked. "Yeah," I said. "I... I thought you were Austin." It was a stupid thing to say but it was all I had. My mind was numb. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice low. Easing off the couch she reached over and hugged me. Oh...Alex..." she cried. "I'm so so sorry." She began to tremble. As much as I wanted to bitch slap her, I couldn't. Something traumatic had happened. The cocky Brett Golding was gone, replaced by a fragile, frightened girl. She was vulnerable and afraid, a sister in need. I had to help her. Taking her hand, I led her to the couch and swept away the stained drapes she used for a cover. I dropped on to the cushions and then I guided her down beside me. When she was settled, I scooted away to give us some space. The instant I did, she panicked. "Don't leave me!" She shrieked, throwing her arms around me, pulling me back, "Please don't leave... please... don't... leave." "It's okay, Brett," I whispered, enfolding her in my arms. "I'm not going anywhere." I stroked her hair, the way my mother stroked mine. "I'm going to turn loose of you," I said, keeping my voice gentle. "But I'm not leaving. I'll be right here. I'll even hold your hand. Okay?" "Okay," she said in a small voice. I slowly untangled myself, shimmying back to ease the cramps in my arms. Brett stiffened, and I thought she would grab me again. Instead, she began to cry. "He...he...put his hands all over me," she sobbed, as I held her hand in both of mine. "Under my shirt and...down...down my pants...and he kissed me...all...over and told me I was beautiful...and he wanted to do things to me. I...I... tried to fight but he was too strong. He had a needle. He said if I didn't take off my clothes, he would give me a shot that would paralyze me. Then he would take them off for me." "Who did this Brett?" I asked. I had an idea but I wanted to hear it from her. "That doctor guy." "Swanson?" She sniffled. "I... I think that was his name. When I was naked, he started kissing me again. He...he... had his hand between my legs, rubbing me, you know....there, and he kept kissing me and trying to stick his tongue in my mouth." She shivered. It took a moment before she could continue. "When he was done and let me get dressed, Mrs. Gartman came in. It was crazy. She was like someone different. Not like Shelly's grandmother at all. I couldn't believe she was part of all this, but she is. Anyway, she was really mad. She said I'd been snooping where I shouldn't have and I'd have to be punished. She said they had ways of dealing with girls like me. They were going to kill some of my brain, and after they did, I wouldn't be a problem." She broke into sobs. I was sure the punishment Mrs. Gartman promised Brett was the same as the "adjustment" she'd threatened me with in the car -- the Rat Pack's favorite method for dealing with problems. It also appeared to work really well. Just ask Bradley Conrad. Except you couldn't. Bradley was pretty much a human vegetable. I wanted to kill the bastards. "It's okay," I said, pulling her close, holding her. "You're with me now. I won't let them touch you again." "I thought I would wake up and realize this was all a bad dream," Brett said, when the tears subsided, " but it's not is it." "No," I said. I wanted to add that I'd warned her, but didn't. Bringing up the past wouldn't help anything. Brett and I needed to work together. I slid off the couch. "Where are you going?" Brett cried, alarmed. "You promised you wouldn't leave me." "I'm getting us out of here," I said. "Don't you want to go home?" "Ye... ye... yes," she managed, her voice trembling. "Then trust me. Can you do that?" She swallowed hard. Then she nodded. "Good," I said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Let's do this." My first order of business was the door. On closer inspection, it proved to be even more formidable than I guessed, constructed of heavy steel. The metal plate, where the handle had been, was welded on. The hinges were new. I needed to find some other way out. I crossed over to the window. It was similar to the ones on the Barnes House with thick panes held in place by heavy slats and casing -- this building was old. The panes were dirty and scaled. Only the tiniest bit of morning light penetrated the glass. I grabbed the grill and tugged. It didn't budge. Massive bolts held it in place. My kidnapping hadn't been spur of the moment. The new hinges and barred window proved it had been planned. I tossed a quick glance Brett's way. She lay on her side, wrapped in the drape. It covered her from her feet to the top of her head. I couldn't tell if she was asleep or just zoned out. It didn't matter. She was quiet, and I needed time to think. I trudged back to the recliner and dropped onto its worn fabric. The musty odor of age filled my senses, ferrying me back to time spent in my grandmother's rocker. Overcome with homesickness, I longed for my parents, my brother, and my room. I thought back to the mall trip with Mom. We were having a mother daughter day until it turned ugly. She'd been disappointed and hurt. I'd never get to tell her I was sorry I'd let her down. I imagined my dad catching the next flight home after he got the news I was missing. I saw my parents sitting together, holding each other with the lights off, waiting for word I'd been found and on my way home. That call would never come. I would never get to tell him how much I loved him, how he was my hero. And Tyler, he was an ass, but he was also my brother, and I loved him too. He'd never get to hear me say it. Maybe they would set a place for me on holidays and on my birthday - an empty chair at the table, in my memory. "Oh, plah-lease," said the voice of Practical Alex in my ear Do you think you could be just a little more dramatic. What you should be doing is figuring a way out of this. Unless you just want that dooms day overture you played out in your mind to become fact. Do you really want to be a statistic?" "No, but what in the fuck am I supposed to do?" I asked. "I'm locked in a room with a window, covered with a metal grill and a steel door. I don't even have a spoon to dig through the wall or tunnel under the floor, like in prison movies." Sometimes Practical Alex could be fucking unpractical. "Duh-Uh," practical Alex shot back. "I didn't expect you to break out like that. I meant wait until someone opens the door. You make your move then." "What if they don't?" I asked. "What if they've already packed up and moved on, leaving us to die of thirst or hunger. That could easily be their plan -- to use this place as a way to get rid of us. Who knows where this is. It could be somewhere in the woods or some abandon spot away from everywhere. It might be weeks or months before anyone finds us--maybe years." "That's not very likely and you know it," said Practical Alex. " The fact they took some of your blood means they're not through with you. My guess is they plan on using you for some kind of experiment." "Here's a news flash," I said. "They've already done everything they can to me. What do you think Project E.D.E.N. was about. It was about me." "Well," Practical Alex continued, " Maybe they're not finished. Maybe Project E.D.E.N. is just the start of something bigger. Maybe they just took a break after Bradley had that meltdown and they had to close the fertilizer plant. Think about it. Did you really believe Walter and Swanson showing up in Clarksville was just a coincidence, a happy circumstance?" Swanson had showed up right after Walter. Add to that, someone escape- proofing this room and then dumping me here, after taking blood samples, and it didn't matter that I hadn't heard any voices. Practical Alex was right. They were out there for certain, beyond the door. I didn't know why, but they were there. -Darling this movie was filmed in Horrorwood on Friday the Thirteenth- The idea that Swanson and Mrs. Gartaman were keeping us locked up, to mentally unravel until we were schizophrenic simpletons, pissed me off. The fact I couldn't figure a way out pissed me off even more. Why in the hell did this have to happen. It was so fucking unfair. "Goddamnit!" I cried leaping to my feet. Anger surged through me. I felt tears and fought them off as I charged across the room toward the menagerie of cast offs. My hands found a dented desk lamp and I flung it at the far wall, sending it crashing into a broken typewriter. This was followed by a folding chair that that went skidding across the floor. Anything I could get my hands on became airborne. It was raining garbage and I was the storm. I didn't stop until the floor was littered and there was nothing left to throw. Hunched over, my hands on my knees, exhausted, I sucked oxygen in big ragged gasps, when something caught my eye. A pair of large spigots jutted from the wall, directly in front of me. They'd been hidden behind the clutter. I smiled. I knew exactly what they were for. A hand touched my arm and I jumped. Brett was standing beside me, the drape wrapped tightly around her. Her eyes were wide and she was trembling. "Are you mad about something? You're scaring me," she said. "Look at what I found. Do you know what they're for?" I pointed at the spigots. I was elated, almost laughing. Brett shook her head. "It's a way out." The sound of metal against metal squealed behind us. We both turned. A large woman in a white nurse's uniform stood in the now open doorway. She stared at the debris scattered across the floor. "What in the hell happened here?" she asked. "You two get in a fucking fight?" Neither of us spoke. "I asked you a fucking question," said the nurse. "I'm responsible for you, so I better get an answer." "I... I needed to go to the bathroom," I said. "I've been holding it since last night. I was making a place to go." "Christ," said the nurse. "Don't use the fucking floor. Hold it for another minute. I'll be back." She backed into the hall and closed the door. A minute later, she reappeared with a plastic five gallon bucket. "Use this," she said, handing it to me with a roll of toilet paper. " I'll empty it when I come back with your breakfast. Dr. Swanson wants to keep you healthy. You're no good to anyone if you're sick." "Is that why you stuck me with a needle?" I asked. "To keep me healthy. Or was it for something else?" "I'm going to get your food," said the nurse, ignoring my question. "When I get back you're gonna eat it. Until then I don't want you taking a dump or pissing on the floor. Use the fuckin' bucket. Got it?" She left closing the door hard. I didn't need to pee that badly but I didn't want to arouse suspicion. I carried the bucket to the far corner of the room. Hiking down my jeans and panties, I squatted. Leaning forward, enough I was aimed down and not out, I listened to the patter of my urine, so different than how a boy's sounded. When I was done, I took the roll of toilet paper and wiped. As I pulled up my pants, I noticed Brett watching me. I expected something sarcastic like how did it feel to pee girly style. "I'm next," was all she said. The nurse reappeared carrying a white bag printed with the McDonald's logo and a paper tray holding two drinks. Straws extended from their plastic lids. "One of you come get the food," she said, standing in the doorway. The other one bring me the bucket." I grabbed the pee bucket leaving Brett to collect the food and drinks. "I'm going to empty this. If you need to go again, hold it until I bring this back," said the Nurse. She paused just outside the door. " There's packets of hand sanitizer in the bag with your food. Use them first. Then eat your breakfast. You're gonna be glad you did." With that she swung the bucket around and closed the door. I wanted to go straight to work on my escape plan, but the aroma wafting out of the bag smelled too good to ignore. I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning and I was starved. If I was right, my escape route would still be waiting when I was done. Brett carried the food and drink tray to the couch She pulled the end table over, cleared away the ashtrays and replaced them with out breakfast. I took a seat beside her and watched as she extracted two small cheeseburgers from the bag. She passed one to me along with a drink. Then she set a large order of fires between us. "I'm sorry," Brett said. "I...I didn't know all this would happen when I took that stuff from your room." "You mean stole," I corrected. "Yeah," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I guess I did steal it." She seemed calmer, though her eyes still looked afraid. "I was so jealous of you. You're so pretty. You were a Deb. You had all those boys trying to hit on you and...and... you didn't care. You had everything I ever wanted and you didn't fucking care about any of it." She shook her head. "I couldn't understand how you could be like that. So when Chrissy offered me a chance to join the Debs, if I could find something that would embarrass you, I went for it. Those papers in the drawer were right on top. I didn't know what they were when I took them. I heard you in the hall, so I grabbed the first thing I could reach and stuffed it in my jacket. I didn't find out what I had until I got home. Then I couldn't believe what I'd found. It was crazy wild. It also explained why you acted like you did. "I never told Chrissy what I found, only that it was really juicy. And now, I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise. I...I just want to go home." I didn't say so, but that's what I wanted too. Except, I couldn't think about home until I found Austin. He was coming with me. "I didn't think you would be back until tonight," I said. I took a bite of my cheese burger, chasing it with a sip of coke. "So what are you doing here. Why did your family come back early from...?" "Atlanta," She said filling in the blank. "They didn't. I came back by myself. My parents are probably still there, looking for me. I miss them so much right now." "So why did you leave without telling them?" I asked, glancing at the spigots. I was anxious to get to work, but I needed to know how Brett ended up here. The information could be important. "Were you running away?" "It was that doctor guy."She said, with a shudder. "He called me...he fucking called my cell. I wasn't going to answer. I mean, you called and I just let it ring. I figured you only wanted to bitch. Then I thought what if you talked to those people and they agreed to what I wanted, It was a crazy idea but when my phone rang, for like the tenth time, I thought, well maybe not so crazy. Otherwise, why would you call so many times?" "But it wasn't me," I said. "It came up as you," said Brett. "They must have been using a spoof card, like we did on Halloween." I remembered that night. It was my first sleepover, part of my initiation into girlhood. We'd stuffed our faces with junk food while we played phone pranks on our teachers. It was the night my father had his accident. "I was expecting you," Brett when on. "So I was surprised when it was some man instead. "I'm calling for Alex Tetras," he said, "so please don't hang up." Then he went on to explain he was also calling for himself. He said you told him what happened and figured he would be angry about it. But he as glad I had taken the envelope out of your drawer and saw what was inside. He said what I wanted in trade was fine. They had been searching for someone - a girl willing to be infected with the virus. They had made improvements on it, and it worked better than ever. "There were two conditions, though. It had to be done in Clarksville and it would have to be soon. The virus had a life span of only a few months and what they had now was at the end of its cycle. "Think of it as an expiration date like you find on cartons of milk," said the doctor guy. "We only have a small window of time remaining, a few days. Then we'll have to purge what we have and start over. That will take months, unless you can be in Clarksville by Thursday night." "My parents weren't going to leave until Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, and we wouldn't get to Clarksville until sometime Saturday. When I told the guy my problem, it was like I could feel him smile over the phone. "If you could leave today." He said. "You could get to Clarksville in plenty of time for us to do our little experiment. Wouldn't you like that, to become a new you." "I wanted that more than anything. The problem was I didn't have a way back home." "I think I can help you," said the guy. "I anticipated you might need transportation. I've arranged a bus ticket for you at the Gray Hound terminal. But it has to be just you. Your parents can't know about this right now. After they see the new you, they'll be so happy with the result, they won't care that you left without telling them." "My aunt and uncle had taken my parents on a sight seeing tour of the new additions to the city. They invited me and my cousins, but we weren't interested in riding around for hours, looking at stupid buildings. When their parents had gone, Margie and the twins left to go hang out with their friends. They asked me along, but I pretended I had a headache. Once I was alone, I got on the computer, looked up the bus route to the Greyhound station and slipped away. "When I got to Clarksville, I was surprised to see Ms. Gartman in the car. She said she was an old friend of the doctor guy and though she didn't know anything about the experiment, I could trust him. We drove to my house and they followed me into my room. I gave them the stuff I took from your drawer and waited while they removed the hard drive from my computer. The next thing I remembered was waking up here." I thought about this as I chewed on a french fry. Why had they knocked Brett out? She'd come willingly, all the way from Atlanta. She would have gone with them to wherever, why drug her? Because they didn't want her to know where we were. That had to be the reason. I finished my burger, wadded up the wrapper and reached for the McDonald's bag to deposit my trash. Then I stopped. Why in the hell was I cleaning up? This room was a garbage dump. I tossed my wrapper on the floor. I glanced at Brett. She was picking at the crumbs left from her part of the meal off the yellow wrapper, licking them off her fingers. I thought the rude, demanding Brett might be gone for good, replaced with something sheepish and melancholy. She'd learned the hard way the Rat Pack played for keeps. I walked over to the section of wall where I'd discovered the faucets and began clearing away more rubble. "What are you doing?" Brett asked, from the couch. "I told you. I'm getting us out of here," I said, as I hauled away broken chairs and boxes of old files. The garbage was stacked layers high and I seemed to turn up every kind of contraption. Why someone would fill a room with useless, crap, anyway? Why not put it in a dumpster or out for the trash man? Then it hit me. Not only did they not want us to know where we were. They didn't want anyone else to know they were here. After a few minutes, I uncovered a second window. Like the first, the glass was covered with a metal grill. Then I stumbled onto another pair of faucets and my heart began to beat harder. I was getting close and didn't think it would be long before I found what I was looking for. The question was, would it be big enough? -If You Can't Ride Two Horses at Once -- Maybe You Should Get Out of the Circus- I squealed with delight. After digging through an endless amount of debris, some of it heavy, I found what I was after. The spigots had given it away. They supplied hot and cold water to wash clothes. We had the same set up at home for our washer. The room we were locked in was a laundry, which meant there had been dryers, which meant vents to move the hot air from the dryers to the outside. Like the spigots, this one was large, but not enough the average person could use it as means of escape. Which was why, I thought, whoever sealed off the room hadn't bothered to to do more than than nail a piece of plywood over it. Fortunately the nails hadn't held and the plywood pulled away easily. I studied the vent hole. It was industrial size, much larger than the one at home. Still, most people wouldn't come close to fitting inside. Luckily, I wasn't most people. I was tiny, one of the smallest kids at school. Normally I hated my size, people were always pushing me out of the way and being trapped in a crowd was scary. But right now, I couldn't be happier. The vent was small, but I thought I could still squeeze through. I stuck my head into the opening and inhaled. A rush of air, fresh and seasoned with dew, filled my nostrils. It was deliciously rich and left me with a heady feeling, like I'd tossed back a slug of whiskey. I pushed further in and my heart sank. I couldn't get my shoulders completely inside. I eased out of the vent. Slipping out of my cardigan, I tested the opening again. This time I got further in, but it was uncomfortably tight. "I'll never fit in there," said Brett, as I backed out of the vent. She'd come up beside me and frowned as she studied the hole. "And you promised you wouldn't leave me." "I'm not leaving you," I said. "I'm getting us out of here." "You are leaving," Brett protested. "You're going to wiggle through there and get away, and I'm going to be alone." "I'll only be gone long enough to get help," I said. "Then I'll be back. I just need to find a phone. Or would you rather stay here and have Swanson feel you up again." I watched her shudder. "No," she whispered. "Then help me find some grease." I would need it to slip through the hole. Standing naked beside her, I kissed Brett on the forehead, the way my mother kissed me when she wanted me to be brave. The base of a busted treadmill had provided enough grease to lubricate my shoulders and hips. I the rest of me would be fine. "I won't be long," I said. "Lay down on the couch and rest. I'll be back before you know it." "You promise?" Brett asked, her eyebrows raised, her voice a question. "I promise," I said, wrapping my clothes in a section of old curtain I'd found. I carried the bundle to the vent, tossed them through, then I squeezed in behind them. Though I needed to travel less than a foot, squeezing through the vent took forever. Each millimeter seemed like a mile. Twice, I hit tight spots, my shoulders jammed and I worried I wouldn't get free. Finally, I managed to pop my forearms and then my head into the open, and by pushing hard against the side of the building, worked my hips free, tumbling onto the ground. Rising to my knees, I looked around. I was kneeling on a strip of grass that stretched to a tall chain link fence, about twenty feet away. I guessed it to be around ten feet high, with an additional foot angled inward, armed with razor wire. Two cars were parked a little distance away, an SUV and a jeep. Beyond the fence, derelict buildings, with busted windows and graffiti soiled facades, lined a street in serious need of repair. We were in an abandon part of town. Even with no one around, I felt exposed, standing in the open, nude. It was also fucking cold. I spotted a hedge at the corner of the building and ducked behind it. I studied the cars as I dressed. The SUV, I knew, was Mrs. Gartman's. I guessed the jeep belonged to the nurse. It was small and might fit four people at the most. Doing a mental calculation, I figured that even if the nurse hadn't come alone, the most she could have brought with her were three others. That totaled six people that might be inside - which could be a problem. Of course, if I could find a way past the chain link, it wouldn't matter. The trouble was, the fence looked insurmountable. Then I remembered the cheeseburgers. They'd come from McDonald's. That meant someone had left to get them. Lunch couldn't be too far off. Even if Swanson had no plans to feed us, they would want to eat, so someone would have to make another food run. If I could figure out which car they would take, I might be able to hitch a ride. Then I could bail when we reached a populated area and yell for help. That was, if they didn't discover I was missing and search the grounds first. I thought the odds were on my side. They probably wouldn't check on us until they were ready to feed us again. Hugging the wall to stay out of sight, I inched toward the cars. Half way, I broke cover sprinting the rest of the distance. Ducking between the two vehicles, I could feel heat coming off the jeep's engine. It had been driven recently-- probably to Mickey D's. I couldn't suppress my grin. The nurse was making the runs. Perfect. The jeep was one of those army types with an open cockpit and used a canvas roof and doors for bad weather. It was cold today but the sky was deepening into a rich cloudless blue. The canvas lay folded in the back, perfect to hide under. It would also keep me warm. I wiggled underneath, thinking this was almost too easy, as I breathed in the clean scent of the heavy cotton and closed my eyes. There was nothing to do now but wait. * * * "Show yourself, Alex" Mrs. Gartman's voice seemed to come from high above me. "I know you're hiding in the back of the jeep. The game's over. You lost, dear." I stayed put, not moving. "I'm going to ask you once more, dear and if you still refuse to show yourself, I'll have no choice but to punish someone you are very close to." There was a pause, then Mrs. Gartman continued. "You can't escape, Alex. We have cameras everywhere, including the old laundry room. I watched you squeeze through the dryer vent and then hide in the clump of bushes at the corner of the building. By the way, the top of the fence is electrified should you try something foolish like attempting to scale it. Now get your butt in motion and out of the jeep. Once you do, look up at the top of the building. I have someone here you'll recognize. There was no point in hiding any longer. They knew where I was. What worried me was who was she going to punish? I didn't think it was Brett. I tossed off the canvas and sat up. "That's' a good girl," said Mrs. Gartman. "Now stand where you can see me, dear" I climbed out of the jeep and backed toward the fence until I had a clear view of the roof. Mrs. Gartman stood near the edge with the nurse beside her. They had Austin between them. Austin looked drugged. His body sagged and his eyes were unfocused. The nurse kept a tight grip on his arms, probably to keep him from toppling over the edge. Then I noticed something else. Mrs Gartman held a metal rod with a large bulge on one end. "Are you familiar with these?" asked the old woman, extending the thing toward me. "It's a cattle prod and can deliver an electric shock, so massive, it can be fatal to humans. Now I'm sure you're asking why I'm showing you this. It's simple, really. You have two minutes to walk around the building to the entrance. Dr. Swanson is waiting there to escort you to your new room. If you should decide to be a stubborn child and resist, I'll be forced to use the device on this young man. I will begin on level four--not fatal but very painful. I will then increase the dosage each minute you delay after that." There was nothing I could do but obey. As I trudged across the asphalt I made myself a promise. The Rat Pack would pay. When I reached the front of the building, it dawned on me that I knew where I was. I looked up at the second floor window Frank watched from. I'd spotted him as I got into my mom's car just before we drove away. It was my first day as Alex. This was the place where I'd been born a girl. Swanson looked through the glass doors of the (according the to rusted plaque mounted on the brick trim) Morris County VA Hospital. "How very nice to see you, Catherine," he said, swinging one of the doors open for me, then locking it, once I was inside. "I regretted not getting to know you better, the last time you were here," he said, coming around to face me. He glanced at the key in his hand and then thrust it into his pocket. "It would have been awkward with your mother present." "But looking at you now," he continued, taking a predatory step toward me. "I realize it's been worth the wait. You're developing into a beautiful young lady." He took another step, bringing him uncomfortably close. I took a step back. "Don't fucking touch me," I warned. Swanson shook his head his lips pressed together, his eyes twinkling, as if I somehow amused him. "You poor bemused child," he said, backing me against the glass front. "I can touch you all I want." He placed a hand and on my shoulder. I shuddered. The hand dipped to my breast. I squealed and twisted away, banging my shoulder hard against the plate glass. Swanson lunged forward, one hand grabbing my arm the other clamping around my crouch. I tried to twist away but he held onto me, thrusting his fingers between my legs. I heard my jeans tear as I swiped at his face, raking my nails down his cheek. He cried out, turning me loose. I fell against the window casing banging my head. "You little bitch," he cried, pressing a hand against the claw marks I left. "You will pay." I sank to my knees. My head was spinning from the impact. Swanson towered over me shaking with rage. His hands clenched and his lips pulled back, barring his teeth. I opened my mouth to scream. "That's enough Swanson," said a rough voice. Even though Swanson stood in the way, I knew who it was. Then Swanson turned, allowing me to see past him. Frank stood beside the empty admittance desk. He'd done away with the men in black look - the dark glasses and fedora - trading them for a neatly pressed khaki shirt and pants. His hair, cut military style, emphasized the chiseled features that made up his face. The stump of a cigar jutted from the corner of his mouth. But the most remarkable thing about Frank was his eyes. They were pale, virtually colorless and without emotion. "Mind your own business, Ben," said Swanson turning back to me. " I'm busy." Frank advanced on Swanson with easy steps. "Do you really want us to go there, Charlie?" he asked, dropping a meaty hand on Swanson's shoulder, hard enough Swanson flexed his knees. " I gave you an order. Get everything ready. I want to be out of here by tonight. Once I'm gone, it's your show. You can do whatever the fuck you want. But right now, I'm in charge. I can't risk you fucking things up." "This is not over," Swanson said to me in a low voice. Then he turned and marched away. I'd dodged the frying pan to land in the fire. My worst nightmare stood only feet away. For months I'd lived in fear of him and now we were face to face, alone. He could do what ever he wanted to me. "You need help getting up?" he asked. There was no sympathy in his voice, only impatience. "Well?" I shook my head. Using the window frame for support, I pulled myself to my feet. The back of my head throbbed and I could trace a large bump with my fingers. "This way," he said, setting off across the hospital lobby, not bothering to look back to see if I was following. When we reached the elevators he shook his head. "They're switched off." He said, directing me to a door set into a recess. "We're taking the stairs." "You don't listen too good, do you, kid." He said. We'd began our climb and his voice echoed in the stairwell, giving it an ethereal quality. "What do you mean?" I asked, Frank still scared the hell out of me but he hadn't killed me. He hadn't even threatened me. "When we met the first time, I told you to keep your nose out of things. You didn't." We reached the door at the top, the words: SECOND FLOOR, stenciled in black across its face. Frank stepped around me and fished a key out of his pocket. "Look kid," he said, unlocking the door. "I don't think I can help you. But here's some advice. Don't make trouble. Do what they tell you and they'll probably let you go." "And if I don't?" I asked, some of the old boldness returning, from the first time we'd met. "Then you'll make it tough for everybody." "I'll make a deal," I said. "I'll do whatever you want if you let me see Austin." "Let me think on it," he pushed open the door. "Come on. I got to get you to your room." * * * "What was it like?" Brett asked. An hour had passed since Frank dropped me off. We'd been upgraded to a smaller but nicer room, with a toilet. The room's furnishings consisted of two chairs, with padded seats, and a sort of couch that folded down into a bed. The single window was covered with the same diamond patterned mesh as the laundry room. Until now we'd made small talk. "What was it like," she repeated. "You know before." "Before what?" I fought to keep the snicker out of my voice. "When you were still a boy. Before you were a girl." The humor I felt moments before vanished. I glared at her. "What?" she asked, seeing me scowl. "I'm just trying to make conversation." I turned away. "Okay," Brett went on, seeing I wasn't going to answer. " The real reason I asked is I want to be friends. You were nice to me, when... I'm kind of the reason we're here. You didn't have to be but you were. I don't want to think of you as a freak or something... Soooooo... I guess what I want to know is... how you... " She fell back against the couch, her shoulders slumped, her arms limp. "This isn't coming out right" "I'm sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have said anything. It bothers you that people know, doesn't it." I wanted to say, hell yeah it bothers me. Instead, I stayed quiet, fighting the urge not to scream at her. "It would probably bother me too," she went on. "It's just I've been a girl my whole life. Being a guy is something I've thought about a lot. I think it might be easier than being a girl. It wouldn't matter that I'm not pretty, if I were a boy." I continued to look away, wishing she'd shut the hell up. I could see her fidget out of the corner of my eye. She wasn't done. "Does Shelly know?" she asked. "She doesn't does she." "Look," She said, leaning toward me, filling my field of vision with her face. "I promise if we get out of this, I'll keep your secret. I will... just lets not be mad at each other... okay?" I didn't reply. Brett had crossed into territory I'd made a point of avoiding. The few times I'd allowed myself to dwell there, I was left feeling freakish and shamed. "You need to grow some ovaries, Alex," said Practical Alex. "Or this is going to haunt you for the rest of your life. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Just because you weren't born with a vagina doesn't make you any less who you really are. It's what's inside that defines you, not body parts." How often had Practical Alex said that, and how many times had I said it too? Just about every fucking day. So why the hell was I still struggling with this? Why couldn't I act on what I knew in my heart to be true? "If you can't talk about it with Brett, how in the hell do you expect to come clean with Austin?" practical Alex asked. "It's time to stand up for you." One night when I was watching television alone, I stumbled across a show called "I am Jazz." The show centered around a transgender girl named Jazz "Jennings" and her struggle to deal with high school drama, boys and social issues as a transsexual. One thing I admired about Jazz was she never felt she had to apologize for who she was. She wrote and published a book, appeared on television and radio shows and even starred in a reality show about herself. Jazz wasn't going to let people define her as anything except who she was, a girl. Thinking about this, I realized Practical Alex was right. I liked who I was. And like Jazz Jennings, I wasn't going to let anyone take it from me, not Brett, not the Rat Pack, not anyone. "You asked me a question," I said to Brett. "But I don't have an answer because this is the real me. That other person was someone else. You'll have to ask him." We'd fallen silent after that, each of us wandering down whatever paths our thoughts chose to follow. I was thinking of home, helping Mom in the kitchen, sitting next to my father in front of the television, drinking in the smell of his English Leather and soap, perched in my comfortable chair at my desk, cataloging my comics, all the things I'd come to love. Then Brett screamed. I snapped awake. Swanson stood in the entryway, the cattle prod in his hand. He had Austin by his side. "Good day, ladies," he said with a smile. "I brought company for you." "Austin," I cried, springing out of my chair. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I saw the icy expression in his eyes. "Austin, what's wrong?" I asked. He didn't answer. He turned away to stare out the window. "What did you do to him," I said to Swanson. "I didn't do anything, Catherine. However, he did come in to possession of a certain collection of papers. I believe they concern you, something about your past. Show Catherine what you've been reading, Austin." Austin continued to look away, as if he hadn't heard. "Austin, I asked you to do something for me," Swanson said. Austin made no response. "Would you like a taste of the cattle prod, Austin?" Austin stiffened, his fingers twitched spasmodically. What the hell had Swanson done to him? "Show her the material, Austin," Swanson repeated. Austin slowly reached a hand into his coat. I saw the tan envelop that I'd come to despise, emerge. He handed it to Swanson, who took it and waved it at me. "He knows, Catherine. He knows everything. And do you know why?" His face beamed, his eyes wide and glowing. "Pay back dear girl, for rejecting me. Now, someone you care about has rejected you." "I don't believe you," I said. I glanced at Austin. He looked away. "I think you did something to him." "Believe as you will," Swanson crowed. Swanson stretched his neck, tilting his head back. When he faced me again his expression had sobered. "Nurse Abbot will be coming for you soon. I expect you to be ready. Until then, enjoy your hero boy's company." He pushed open the door. Pausing in the hall way, he considered the manila envelope in his hand. "I believe this belongs to you." He said, tossing it into the room at my feet. The door closed, and then there were three. Austin stayed rooted at the window, silent and brooding, staring out through the wire mesh. Brett kept to the couch, chewing her thumb, rocking back and fourth like she was four. I found a spot on the floor, in the corner. No one spoke. The manila envelope lay where Swanson tossed it, taunting me. I fixed my eyes on the thing, wishing I had heat vision so I could vaporize it by a simple act of will. But I wasn't a comic book superhero and staring at it only gave me a headache. I couldn't destroy it with a sizzling glare but I damn sure could do something else. Leaping to my feet, I snatched it up, twisting it in opposite directions, like a strong man ripping a phone book. I screamed when it didn't tear. Clawing open the flap, I shredded the contents into bits, page by page, slinging the fragments across the floor. Then I pulverized the envelope, punching and then grinding it underfoot. When I was done, I was left gasping. Moments passed before I noticed Austin watching me. He eyed me with a kind of incredulity, as if seeing me for the first time, attempting to determine exactly what I was. I wanted to say something smart-ass, like "take a picture it'll last longer" or "if I throw a stick will you leave me alone?" I did neither. Feeling more hurt than offended, hoping for a do-over, I smiled. Austin didn't smile back, he returned to the window. "There must be something really interesting out there," I said. "You've been in front of that window for over an hour." He shrugged. "Austin, I know they did things to you," I said, trying to tamp down the flurry inside me. "And I'm sorry I got you into this. But avoiding me isn't going to solve anything. If you're mad, tell me." Austin made a slow turn, his feet rotating in a tight circle, hands balled into fists. There were tears in his eyes. "I'm not mad that I tried to help you. It was my fault I messed up. What bothers me is you never told me. You led me on and on, and never, ever told me." "I wanted to," I pleaded. "I was going to... last night... But Mrs. Gartman showed up and I had to hide you before I could - " I stopped. Austin wasn't listening, his eyes lost their focus and then he was at his window leaving me forgotten. I went back to my corner and sank to the floor, not caring if I got out of this or not. What was the point? I seriously doubted the Rat Pack was going to let us go and why should they. After a few days the police would abandoned the search, filing us away as runaways. No one would suspect the truth because we'd already supplied the alibi. Austin didn't want to return to boarding school, he wanted to keep his bike. I'd gotten into it with my mother over the fight in the mall and ran off because she'd taken away my phone and internet. I was sure they'd supplied Brett with a reason as well. It was the perfect crime. What was ironic was, we'd done all the work for them. All they had to do was cash in. The door opened and the massive form of Nurse Abbot filled the entry. "You," she said, pointing to me, "they need you in the lab." "Don't try to run, like you did this morning," Abbot said, once we were outside the room. "Everything on this floor is locked including the stairwell." I followed her to the end of the hall where she stopped to unlock the door to the stairs. I expected we'd go down but we went up. "Operating rooms are on the third floor," she said. "I always thought that was a stupid place for them. It would make more sense to put them on the ground floor, especially when you consider they're mixed in with the ER. I mean you got a heart attack patient or a car wreck victim. Do you really want to waste time hauling them up to the third when you could just roll them inside and right into the ER - but who am I to tell them anything, huh? I'm just a fucking nurse." We reached the third floor landing. Nurse Abbot pressed the bar operating the latch and the door swung open. So only some doors were locked. I filed this bit of info away for later, as we stepped out of the concrete stairwell onto black and white tile. A bank of elevators stood to my right and an empty nurses station filled the space on my left. Directly ahead was a set of double doors. The sign above read: BUZZ TO REQUEST ADMITTANCE. The same message was repeated on a small plastic card attached next to the right hand door. A red arrow beneath the message pointed to a white button. Nurse Abbot pressed the button and the doors opened. She ushered us through. The doors closed behind us with a soft whoosh. We were standing in a wide hallway. A door to my right read : ICU/ICC WAITING AREA. FAMILY ONLY. A short way down a second set of doors gave entry into the hall marked ICU/ICC. Abbot guided us through, stopping at a pair of recessed doors on the left hand side of the hall, marked : SURGERY/ E. R. She motioned me in and I was struck by the room's whiteness and the number of lights. Banks of florescent lined the ceiling, while below them, a ring of circular lights mounted on movable arms were arranged over a bed, balanced on a hydraulic cylinder, set into a heavy base on wheels. Machines with television screens, stainless steel cabinets on rollers, and oxygen tanks with gauges, filled one side of the room. Dr. Swanson sat at a computer station in a back corner. Mrs Gartman stood beside him. They were intent on whatever Swanson had called up on the monitor. "We should have done this a month ago," Mrs. Gartman said. "If I hadn't insisted on injecting him with the girl's blood last night, he'd be dead. We need him." "I agree but I'm not sure even that will save him," said Swanson. "The small amount of virus still in Catherine's body has begun to mutate. You saw the result." "So what do you suggest, Charles?" "I'm not a geneticist but I do have an idea that could -" As if sensing our presence, Swanson broke off in mid-sentence. Swiveling around in his chair, his face tighten when he saw us, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Get her out of here," he said, his tone brusk. "... the girl?" Nurse Abbot gawked at Swanson. "Of course the damn girl, Nurse. Who else would I be referring to?" "But Doctor-" Nurse Abbot protested. "You specifically sent me to get her only minutes ago?" "Get her out of here, Nurse." Swanson was red faced. "Now!" "Come on, kid," she muttered, taking my arm with a tense hand. "Nurse," Swanson called after us. Abbot stiffened, prepared for another verbal assault. "Yes Doctor?" "Put her in the ICU waiting room. And for God's sake, lock the door." "Yes, Doctor." "Why do you put up with that?" I asked once we were in the hall with the doors closed behind us. "The way he talked to you, it was like you were a dog or something." She didn't answer. She guided me to the end of the hall to the door marked WAITING AREA, opened it and gestured for me to go in. "I'm sorry about this kid," she said. "Do what they tell you and maybe they'll let you go before too long." She was about to lock me in when she hesitated. She reached in the pocket of her nurses uniform and pulled out a couple of wrinkled dollar bills. "I was saving these for a snack later. The machine still has a few candy bars and chips. I think you could use one more than me." She handed the bills to me. "Knock yourself out, okay." "Thanks," I said, I jamming the money in my pocket. "Sure," said Abbot. "Take care kid." Then she closed the door. The room was furnished with several comfortable looking chairs. Two snack machines stood against the wall alongside a machine that dispensed coffee, tea and juice. A counter, painted white, held paper cups, plastic stirrers, and containers for sugar and creamer. There was also another door. Black lettering printed on a white plastic rectangle read: Please be patient until a staff member is available to take you to your family member. Visits are limited to ten minutes. I crossed the room and looked through the door's glass partition at another hallway. I expected the door to be locked, but when I grabbed the handle, it opened. Stepping through, I glided past four rooms, all of them dark. These rooms probably housed patients released from ICU. What I hoped to find wouldn't be in any of them. If there was an emergency exit it would be beyond the doors at the end, inside the ICU. I placed a hand on this last set, so far none of them had been locked and smiled when it swung out. But I shouldn't have been surprised. No one had locked them because no one saw a reason to. We were being held on the second floor. I pushed the doors open wide and stepped into bright sunlight. I was amazed to discover the source of the light was a large picture window, something I didn't expect to find in an intensive care unit. I took a moment to gaze at the small city of Pine Grove, spread before me, before turning away to survey the room. Four beds, each with a monitor, IV, and what might be respirators, formed a square. Three of the beds had their curtains pulled back, one had them drawn shut. I made a beeline toward the odd bed, curious of what it might be hiding. Just as I reached it, I heard a groan from within. "Swanson?" a voice quivered. I couldn't tell if it were male or female. But one thing was certain. It was in pain. "Is that you?" My mind said to get out, to hurry back to the room where Nurse Abbot left me, to leave what the curtains hid alone. "Who's there?" the voice begged. "Please. Who ever you are, help me." Something about the phrasing of the words, or in the voice, told me I knew this person. My hand shook as I reached for the curtain. Holding my breath, I pulled it aside. I struggled to stifle the scream. The thing in the bed was as pitiful as it was hideous. It stared at me with eyes that oozed a thin whitish fluid, like watered down milk. Long shaggy hair, framed a face that would have been beautifully feminine if not for the cyst like growths on its chin and neck. Each one was tipped with tufts of stiff black hair. Three "breasts" protruded from under the thin hospital gown covering its chest. It lifted a skeletal arm. Twisted fingers, tipped with brittle, split nails, stretched toward me. "John," it croaked. "Is that you? It is. Thank God." My mouth went suddenly dry, icy fingers inched up my spine. "Why...why did you call me, John," I whispered. "Because that is who you are," said the thing. Suddenly, I couldn't breath. It was as if the room had contracted, forcing out all the air. My knees began to buckle, I thought I might collapse. There was only one person who still called me John. "Uncle Walter?" I ventured in a low voice. My hands felt sweaty. I wiped them on my jeans. "Swanson did this," said the thing. "Why?" I asked. "He's trying to keep me alive, John. He thinks I can recreate the virus. He is afraid if I die before passing on how it's done to him, it will be lost. But the truth is I can't. No one can. You see, after weeks of failure, I've learned what Sandra Gartman has suspected all along. You were special. There was something about your DNA that made the Adam to Eve virus possible. No other DNA samples were receptive when we tried to reproduce it. You were the only soil in which we were able to grow our special crop. Swanson's wasting his time The virus can't be recreated. But if he learns what I just told you, he will never let you go. It would make you too valuable. That's why I've kept the truth from him." "But that doesn't explain why he did this to you," I said. "Was he trying to punish you?" The thing in the bed smiled. "Yes and no." It said. "For days I've been inching closer to death. Though Swanson has tried to keep me alive, everything has failed. Last night they decided to make one final attempt and inject me with a serum made from your blood. "They thought if they infected me with the virus - the traces that have survived in you - I would undergo a similar change. My damaged cells would be rapidly replaced with healthy ones, albeit female. The virus may have mutated, do to its age. Or perhaps, when the virus encountered whatever is draining my life it became less stable, I don't know. What you see in this bed was the result. "Is that why they kidnapped me?" I asked. "So they could use my blood to try to heal you." "I don't think so," said Walter. "Even if we'd been successful, they would have brought you here. The Golding girl stirred up a hornet's nest when she took my notes from your room. If word about Project E.D.E.N. were to ever get out, the repercussions would be too great to even contemplate. All hell would break loose. They couldn't take the chance of one of you passing the information on to the authorities. "That's crazy," I said. "That would be like telling on myself." "I agree," said the thing. "You would certainly be in the center of the tempest. Your picture would be on the front page of every newspaper and the lead story of the nightly news. The real danger though would he those that would want to study you for their own purposes, to learn how a boy was able to miraculously transform into a girl with the help of a lowly germ. I remembered Mrs. Gartman calling me a beautiful miracle. Becoming Alex had been just that. I'd found depths in myself I'd never dreamed existed and a relationship with my father so strong and wonderful no words could express it. But if I had to always be worried about the wrong people finding out... "I can tell I've frightened you, John," said my Uncle. "I see it in your face. But this is what I haven't told you. The remaining bits of virus inside you are dying and given time will vanish. Once that happens, there will be no indication that you were every anything other than what you appear to be, a normal female. And since you were our only evidence, it will be as if Project E.D.E.N. never existed and all of this will stop." I couldn't wait. Swanson or Frank could do something else to me before then. "Can you stand?" I asked. "I'm going to find a way out of here. There's three of us. If you can walk, you can come with us." What was left of my uncle, smiled. "I'm touched that after everything we did to you, you're willing to help me, But I won't be going with you. I'm dying John and nothing is going to change that. What is important is that I end this if I can and help you get away. If I'm able to do that my sister may forgive some of the things I've done to you and your family. All I ask is that when you do get home, you tell her I'm sorry, and that I love her. Will you do that for me?" I nodded. The thing that had once been Walter Evans studied my face. "I'm not as frail as I was. The injection Swanson gave me has helped. However, I need at least one more to be of any use. If I could manage that, I might be able to help you get out. It would have to be done without Swanson knowing. He's already suspicious. "I can do it myself, if you'll trust me." the thing went on, its eyes burning like twin fires. "I'll have to to draw some of your blood and then inject it into myself whole, but that shouldn't be a problem. You and I share the same type. The question is what kind of changes is a second injection going cause. I suppose the only way to find out is to do it. If you are willing to take the chance then I am as well." "What do you need me to do?" I asked. "There are syringes in the top drawer of the cabinet, beside my bed. If you will pass one to me, and then give me your arm. I'll make short work of this." "Thank you, John." he said, when we were done. " There is one more thing you need to know. I am not the only one intent on helping you. The is someone else." "Who?" I asked. "Trust me, John," he said closing his eyes. " You will know when the time comes. And when it does. Be ready." -Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle - I'd chomped halfway through my Hershey bar when the door to the waiting room opened and Swanson and Nurse Abbot stepped inside. "We're ready for you Catherine," he said. "For what?" I glanced from Swanson to Nurse Abbot. She was frowning like someone had handed her a shovel and said it was her turn to clean up the manure. "No time for twenty questions, child." Swanson said "Or do you require a little incentive? " He raised the cattle prod pointing the tip in my direction. I slid out of my chair. There was no point in putting on a show. I followed Swanson into the hall and through the double doors to the ICU. "We're going to the lab station at end of the hall. It will be on your left." "You said you were going to let us go," I said to Swanson, my contempt for the bastard threatening to boil over. "Did I? " Swanson tilted his head as if trying to recall. "I don't remember saying that." "My parents will have called the police," I went on. "I bet they're looking for us right now. You can't hide us forever." "Oh. I believe we can. However, if things go well, I'm sure you won't be here too much longer." "When you do let us go, aren't you afraid we'll tell what happened?" I asked "If you turn us loose now, I promise none of us will say anything about what you did. We'll say we ran away." Swanson cocked his head, his eyebrows raised. His mouth formed a grin. " That is so generous of you." He laughed. "However, I never said I would release you to your parents." We'd reached the end of the hall and stood in front of a room about the size of my bedroom. Before I could ask him what he meant, he motioned me in with a sweep of his arm. "Inside please. I'll need you to take a seat in that white chair," The chair, fitted with extra long legs and a hinged tray tilted toward the ceiling reminded me of a child's highchair. I mounted the step and hoisted myself up. Swanson lowered the tray and I saw the armrests were padded. "Place your left elbow on the armrest, Catherine," Swanson said. "We need another vial of your blood." A chill ran through me. That was the arm Walter used to draw my blood. If Swanson lifted the cotton he would see the extra needle mark. "Nurse Abbot, would you please do the honors." Abbot plucked a syringe from a silver tray. She removed the dressing from my arm, studied the needle marks and replaced the cotton and tape. Then she gave me a quizzical glance. "What's the matter, nurse?" Swanson asked, looking up from the set of notes he'd spread across the desk. My mind raced as I fought to make up a reason for the second needle mark. "I need to use her other arm," said the nurse. "This one is irritated around the vein. She must have rubbed it or something." "Fine," He said. "Just get to it. We still have much to do." I switched arms and let Abbot draw more blood. I watched as she transferred the sample to a vial and handed it to Swanson. Why hadn't she busted on me? "I'm taking this to the centrifuge," he said, "I will need your to meet me there as soon as you secure this room. We will leave Catherine here. " "I got to lock you in, kid" said Abbot. "Do you need to pee or anything before I do?" I shook my head. "Okay, if you say so, we might be a little while." The door closed followed by the click of the lock. I raised the tray and then eased out of the chair, puzzled by nurse Abbot. She'd seen the second needle mark. Why had she covered for me? Was she the "someone else" Walter had referred to? I'd have to figure it out later, when I had more time. Right now, I needed to find a way out of here. I made a quick scan of the room. A desk and chair shared one corner with a medical cabinet. A microscope, seemingly out of place next to a dozen bottles labeled with chemical sounding names, filled shelves behind the glass paneled doors. The wheeled cart stood alone, some distance away,. The rest of the room was bare with the exception of the white chair. I went straight for the desk. It was similar to the one in my room, with drawers on each side of the knee hole and a long thin drawer spanning the middle. Chances were, what I was looking for would be here. I slid it open the center drawer. Pens and pencils were arranged neatly in a plastic tray along side of paper clips and stick-it notes. Disappointed, I shifted my attention to the drawers on the left. All three held nothing but printed forms, most requesting permission to preform surgery if the patient was unresponsive. A few were grim, asking what the family wanted to do with the body. I closed the last drawer and moved on to the ones on the right. I opened the top drawer and found a small portable radio and tape recorder, along with an unopened pack of AA batteries. The radio would be handy to have if we got away. The problem was, it was too big to smuggle past Swanson. If I had time, I'd come back for it. "That's providing your uncle comes through with a way out of here," said Practical Alex. "Do you really think he's going to do that?" "Yeah, I do," I said. I opened the second drawer and looked inside. This one held a Sudoku puzzle book, a plastic case filled with safety pins and a small sewing kit. "You're too damn trusting, Alex," Practical Alex said. "How many times I have told you that? You trusted Mrs. Gartman, and Dr. Swanson. They were lying to you, using you. Now you're trusting Walter? That guy started all of this shit. That makes less than sense..." Practical Alex was getting on my nerves. I jerked open the bottom drawer, blocking out her chatter. A heavy wool sweater, neatly folded and a gray extension cord lay on top of a white lab coat. For some reason the coat caught my attention. I pulled it out of the drawer and shook it open. When I did something tinkled. There was something in the right pocket. I reached in and fished out a ring of keys. I thought my heart would burst with excitement. There were seven keys on the ring. Two were the size of my house key. One, I knew, was for a car's ignition. The other four were smaller. The type used for padlocks or filing cabinets. Placing them on the desk, I refolded the lab coat, slipped it back under the sweater and closed the drawer. Then I carried the keys to the door. I focused on keeping my hand steady as I extended the first one toward the lock. Would it fit? There something rattled on the other side. I dropped the keys into my bra and hurried back to the white chair, levering myself up, onto the seat, as the door swung open and Nurse Abbot and Swanson walked in. "Hello again, Catherine," said Swanson. He pursed his lips as he studied me. "What an obedient child we have, Nurse Abbot. She's right where we left her. One would have thought we would have caught her snooping around, searching for a way of escape. Do you find it odd that we didn't?" "She's just a kid," said the nurse. "She's probably too scared to do anything." "Possibly," Swanson mused. "Though doubtful." He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger as he gazed lazily at me. "I suspect she has some other reason." I struggled to keep my face blank, even though I could feel a tightening in my chest. If he searched me, he would find the keys. "But no matter," he said, after a long moment. "She can dig around all she wants. There is nothing in th