Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(13)

A sick shudder passed through me. The Sisters did to women what the MM did to men: tore away the soul and brainwashed what was left.

“Yes?” she said, not quite meeting my eyes.

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” Rebecca, who was seated in front of me, flinched but did not look back.

“All right. Randolph, please escort Ms. Miller to the restroom.”

“I can find it on my own,” I said quickly, blushing. What am I, five years old?

“It’s procedure,” she said, and returned to her desk.

I stood, nervously biting my lower lip. I didn’t want to go anywhere with this soldier alone. Even if he hadn’t punched Rosa, he was too creepy.

Silently, he led me from the building, taking care not to stand directly in front of me, but at a slight angle so I was always in his peripheral vision. As we walked, an image of Chase filled my mind—Chase the soldier, in a uniform like Randolph’s, carrying the same baton, the same gun. What was he doing now? Was he with my mother? Was he willing to stand before Morris’s raised weapon for her, the way he’d done for me? Because no one here had blocked Randolph’s fists.

I shut him firmly from my mind.

We left the classroom and proceeded down a linoleum-floored hallway toward the main entrance. Sun filtered through the windows. It looked almost summery outside.

There was a women’s restroom just inside the front doors. I ducked in, waiting for a moment to make sure that Randolph wasn’t going to follow me in. When he didn’t, I darted over to the toilet and removed the porcelain lid to the tank.

There’s one thing I can say about living without a father: You learn to problem-solve a lot of home-repair jobs on your own. It only took a second for me to unhook the chain, allowing the water to refill the tank, and lightly replace the lid.

A moment later I was back in the hallway.

“The toilet’s broken,” I told him. As I expected, he pushed past me to check for himself.

Apparently Randolph had not grown up living month-to-month on government checks. His family probably could afford to call the plumber. Densely, he flicked the handle several times, and sure enough, the toilet did not flush. He didn’t even bother lifting the lid to check the chain.

“Isn’t there another one?” I whined.

He nodded, radioing in the problem as we headed outside. The fresh air prickling through the loosely woven sweater gave me a rush. We turned left outside of the building and followed the stone path back around toward where Rosa had run several hours ago.

“There!” I said, walking more quickly past the alleyway where I could still see Randolph hitting her. “The clinic will have a restroom, won’t it?”

We were only twenty yards away. A dubious look crossed his face, and for a moment I thought he would argue just so I wouldn’t dictate our course. But then he seemed to realize the inconsequentiality of my request, and we veered toward the clinic.

The waiting room was small and sterile and smelled vaguely of cleaning products. My shoes squeaked across the shiny floor as he pushed past a counter where a brunette nurse was reading the Bible. She looked up but didn’t ask any questions as I made my way across the short hallway.

I found what I was looking for on the counter of a blood-draw station, right between a mini fridge and a plastic box of alcohol swabs and plastic syringes. A telephone. My heart leapt in anticipation.

As nonchalantly as I could, I entered the bathroom and closed the door, racking my brain for ways to distract the nurse and my evil guard. I didn’t have to think long. There was a noise outside, loud enough that I could hear it through both the bathroom and outer clinic walls. It was a screeching sound, like a car makes when someone hits the breaks too fast, originating from that building next door with the fire hydrant. But when I heard it again, I wasn’t so sure that the sound wasn’t human. My heart rate quickened. It felt like someone was gripping my spine. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

I cracked the door and saw that both Randolph and the nurse had gone into the waiting area. Seizing my chance, I sprinted around the restroom door and into the small booth where the nurses drew blood. A second later the phone was in my hand.

A scuffle on the floor startled me. I jumped, spinning around, and saw Randolph two feet behind me. Staring. The phone clattered against the countertop.

“Go ahead,” he offered. He’d known exactly what I wanted to do.

I sensed this was a trick, but the offer was too tempting to refuse.

I snatched the phone and lifted it to my ear. There was a clicking noise, and then a man picked up.

“Main gate, this is Broadbent.”

Randolph smirked. I turned away from him.

“Yes, can you connect me to Louisville?” I said urgently.

“Who is this?”

“Please, I need to dial out!”

There was a stretch of silence.

“There is no line out. The phones only connect within the facility. How did you get this number?”

My hands were trembling. Randolph snatched the telephone away and hung up, a self-righteous sneer on his face.

A veil of hopelessness fell over me.

*



THE hours passed. Randolph had decided to keep a closer watch on me based on my stunt in the clinic, and though I was allowed to go with the other seventeens to the cafeteria, I was permitted only water. No lunch. No dinner. Watching them eat was torturous, but I refused to show Randolph or Ms. Brock or even Rebecca that I was bothered.