Saving Meghan(47)

When they opened for a second time, I had no idea if a minute, an hour, or a day had passed. But I was more alert now. I could see clearly that I was in a mostly empty room with a hospital bed in the center. There was a second room across from the bed, the door slightly ajar. The lights were off, so I couldn’t see inside, but I guessed it was probably a bathroom.

Off to my left was a sort of couch, more like a bench built into the wall, with a couple of long cushions to make it comfortable for sitting. There were three square windows above the couch, but I couldn’t see a latch, or handle, or any way to open them from the inside. There were no blinds or curtains on the windows, and light poured in from the outside. Daytime. What did I last remember? Day or night? I couldn’t think clearly enough to recall. I wasn’t entirely sure what my last memory was.

I realized there wasn’t a sheet or a pillow on my bed. How come this hospital doesn’t believe in sheets?

I managed to get myself out of bed. There was a second door to my right, with a square portal window built into it. I went to that door and tried the knob, but it was locked. I turned the knob several times; it wouldn’t budge. Then I remembered pulling on a doorknob just like this one and it, too, had been locked from the outside.

A second memory came to me, and I shivered. I recalled screaming, crying for my mom—not my dad, no, not him—pleading for someone to come get me. People came, all right, about four of them. They grabbed me and pushed me down on the bed with force. Someone came at me with a needle. Yes, I could see it in my mind’s eye like it was happening all over again. It was sharp and long, coming straight at my arm, some liquid inside the syringe. I bit the arm of somebody who was wrestling me, tasted their blood as it seeped into my mouth. Whoever it was screamed and gripped my arm hard enough to break it.

Was that a dream?

Glancing at my arm, I noticed a big purple bruise above the elbow, so I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. Around my wrist was a hospital bracelet. On my other arm, someone had secured a small square piece of gauze to my skin with a few strips of medical tape. I peeled the tape back, felt the pull against my skin as it came free, and saw beneath a tiny dot that was probably the spot where a needle had sunk into my vein. Who had put that needle in me?

I tried the doorknob again, this time banging against the door for somebody’s attention. I peered out the portal into an empty hallway with splashes of color on the wall. Color or not, every fiber of my being told me this place was my worst nightmare.

I stumbled back to my bed, feeling like the floor was made of water. My stomach rumbled as I slumped onto the mattress. I drifted off for a second, then jolted awake when I heard the door slam into the wall. A stout nurse in blue scrubs with dark hair to match her dark expression barged in, and behind her were two large men who could easily have played the entire offensive line for my high school football team. They came at me fast, surrounding me.

“You shouldn’t be up, Meghan,” the nurse said. “Guess we didn’t give you enough.”

“Enough what?” I asked. My voice was soft in my ears. “Where am I?”

“The hospital, Meghan. You’re a patient here. I’m Nurse Amy,” said the nurse. “I’ll be looking after you for a few hours.”

One of the large men came out from behind Nurse Amy. He had mocha-colored skin and a mustache like a pencil line. He also had a big bandage on his arm, which could explain his angry look. I thought of the bite I’d given someone and wondered if he might have been on the receiving end.

“How are you feeling?” Nurse Amy asked me.

“I don’t want to be here,” I said, tears springing to my eyes. There were flashes of Dr. Nash and Dr. Levine. I had met with them at White. My parents were here somewhere, in the waiting room probably. I had to get to them. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, but something told me it was a long time.

I jumped off the bed and rushed for the door. Well, in my mind I was rushing. It was more like I threw myself off the bed and fell into Nurse Amy, connecting hard enough to knock her to the ground. I heard a muffled grunt when she hit the floor. Spinning, I managed to avoid Bite Mark, but ran straight into another one of the goons Nurse Amy had brought with her. This guy grabbed my shoulders and, in reflex, my knee went up to his groin. I connected with something there, because he doubled over in pain. Adrenaline surged through me, bringing me back to my senses. I knew the feeling well from the soccer field. Everything was in sharp focus, clear as a glass of water. I sized up my opposition in a fraction of a second. He was the last defender I had to beat before I’d square off with the goalie—only this goal was the open door out of here.

As I neared the door, I could see Bite Mark in my peripheral vision, lunging at me. I gave a little juke move, one I’d practiced countless times with a ball at my feet: a shift to the right before rapidly decelerating and shifting to my left. Bite Mark fell for it, dived to his right, and tackled only air. I spun the other way and was on the move again, headed for the open door that was maybe five or six strides away. I glanced behind me the same way I would if a defender were on my heels.

I made a few quick assessments. Wherever I had kneed Mustache Man, I must have hurt him, because he was still on the floor, groaning. Also, Nurse Amy wasn’t very athletic, because she, too, was slow to get up. I had Bite Mark beat, and even though I was feeling funky from whatever drug they’d put in me, I thought my chances were good to get away.