Breaking Point (Article 5 #2)(94)

Tucker stiffened and walked slowly back toward his old friend.

My brain was reeling. What did they have to talk about? An instant filter through the possibilities left me with two options: either Sprewell had scanned Tucker’s name anyway and figured out he’d been dishonorably discharged, or Tucker had set us up.

I tilted my head, trying not to eavesdrop too obviously. The chalky music grated down my spine.

“You’re kidding,” I heard Tucker say in a shocked tone. He called to Sean: “Get the girl. I have to take care of something.”

Tucker was going somewhere with Sprewell alone. He was going to rat us out. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to make him stay, but my throat tied in knots, like Rebecca herself was gripping my vocal cords. We couldn’t follow Tucker. We had to find her.

I met Tucker’s eyes once as he entered the elevator. The concern in them was evident enough to spray me with doubt. Maybe he wasn’t turning me in. Maybe he really was the one in trouble.

Either way we were running out of time.

Sean sped back to the nurse’s station and harshly stated Rebecca’s name. The Sister looked frightened.

“Yes, sir. She’s either in physical therapy at the end of the hall”—she pointed to the right—“or in the rec room, that way.” She pointed the opposite direction.

Sean took off toward physical therapy, and I went the other way.

Slow down, I told myself.

I passed several patient rooms. Most of the doors were closed. All but Room 408, and its neighbor, 409. Inside, a withered man laid on the plastic covered mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mouth open and crusting white. He was crying softly.

I shoved through the door at the end of the hall.

The room was empty but for a table in the center holding a ceramic pot and a plastic tray of pansies. There was a girl in yellow scrubs sitting in a plastic chair facing the side window. Her blond locks, once so long and beautiful, had been shorn to a tight cap around her skull.

Rebecca.

Suddenly, I was bombarded with memories. The first time I’d seen her, with her springy hair and plastic smile. Her unstoppable love for the sandy-haired guard, Sean Banks. Sitting beside her on my bed late into the night strategizing my escape. The night I’d told her about Chase.

She was not a friend at first, and she might not be now, but for a time, she was all I had.

I took a step forward, feeling a cool drip of nerves slide down my spine. If the Sisters were so casual in their supervision, there had to be another security measure in place. Maybe there were cameras, or another posted guard that I’d missed.… They were insane if they thought a girl who’d snuck out of her room at the reformatory every single night would stay, unguarded, in a space like this.

“Rebecca,” I said cautiously.

Ahead of me, I saw her slender body grow rigid.

“I don’t want to pray today.” She did not turn around.

My heart cracked at the sound of her voice.

When I rounded the table, Rebecca’s nose was down. Even though she wasn’t looking at me, I could see a bitter expression pulling at her once angelic face. She was repotting the pansies. Her fingers were black from the soil.

But she looked okay. No broken neck. No feeding tube. With the exception of her hair, she looked exactly as she had when we’d parted. A single wave of cool relief washed over me.

“Let’s go,” I said, focused again.

Her head shot up, and her pretty blue eyes went round with shock. The mustard-colored remnants of a bruise along her chin and jaw became apparent and elicited a strong twinge of guilt.

“Ember?” She kept the flowers on her lap.

“We’re getting you out of here,” I whispered.

“What? You … wait … no.”

I must have looked surprised, because that’s what I felt. “What do you mean no? We’ve got to hurry. Sean is—”

“Not Sean,” she said firmly, but there was an edge to her voice. “Ember, you have to leave.”

“What?” She was mad at me, that was the only explanation for why she was acting this way. She had good reason, but still, I was here, I was going to get her out. Surely she had to see that.

I realized she was probably afraid, but this seemed crazy. She’d attacked Brock and the guards with her bare hands for what they’d done to Sean, and now she was too scared to leave a hospital?

“You’re not taking me anywhere. You’re leaving. Now.” Her voice hitched. If she kept this up, the Sisters were going to hear her.

My brain couldn’t wrap around this. “You don’t want to leave?”

“No. I want to stay,” she said resolutely.

“We can’t talk about this now. There’s no time.” I glanced over my shoulder. No one was coming. Yet. I snatched the flowerpot off her lap.

“No! You don’t understand!” Her voice cracked. “He can’t see me like this!” Her perfect cheeks were splotchy red now. They stood out in sharp contrast to her yellow jumpsuit.

“Like what? With short hair? Rebecca, he won’t care.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

Sean burst through the door at the same time I jerked Rebecca to a stand.

Only she didn’t stand. She fell flat on her face.

“What the…” I knelt to the ground to pick her up.